Circle in the Sand
by Kreek
Summary: “There’s no choice. Not anymore. You will work for us. You will sever all ties with Atlantis, be it in your heart or in your head, or we will sever them for you.” Equal Sheppard & McKay Whump/Angst
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Stargate Atlantis don't belong to me. This is a non-profit story, written pure for fun.  
**Beta: **The amazing Starsky's Strut, who even went so far as to start watching the show after I started writing. Thanks my friend! And Llanea, who helped me restore my faith in this fandom.  
**Proofread: **up to chapter 4 by AnCa, then Llanea took over.  
**Rating: **A very high T, because of the whump.  
**Warnings: **McKay _**and**_ Shep whump, spoilers through season three. Please note that although it may seem like it _this is NOT a death story  
_**  
Setting: **This story is set in the second half of season three, before Carson's demise.  
**Characters: **Emphasis on Sheppard and McKay and a fair bit of Teyla. But there's also a bit of Ronon, Weir, Carson and Lorne.  
**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Gen.  
**Summary: **"There's no choice. Not anymore. You will work for us. You will sever all ties with Atlantis, be it in your heart or in your head, or we will sever them for you."

**Author's Notes**: Even though I've been writing for years in other fandoms, this is my first longer story in the Pegasus universe. And I can tell you that I'm very, very scared to post. I'm not a scientist and although I try to keep my facts straight, I try to focus mainly on the friendship between Sheppard and McKay. Those who know my writing, know that my stories usually contain lots of emotional whump and this one is no different. It starts with McKay whump and Shep Angst, but all too quickly turns around in Shep Whump and McKay angst...

EDIT: I have now re-edited the entire story. Apart from the title change in the early posting process, the most notable change I think is that I've deleted the prologue. It didn't really add to the story. I have also rearranged some paragraphs for story flow purposses, but nothing major. Hope you'll enjoy the story! And thanks for reading!

EDIT: 21 March '11. Tightening up grammar and story flow.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"I don't like this," McKay uttered as they trod their way through soggy ground, the mud sticking to their airforce issue boots, attempting to hold them in place with every step.

The oppressive heat and high concentration of moisture in the atmosphere of this planet didn't do much for John's mood. Not to mention the numerous flying insects buzzing around his head fully intend on sucking every last drop of blood out of him. Still, trained to deal with these kind of environments, he dealt with it.

McKay on the other hand had no such qualms. "Really, Colonel," his voice ended in a grunt followed by a distinct _slurp_ sound. John looked over his shoulder just in time to watch his chief scientist tug his boot free, lose his balance, and land butt first in one of the luckily shallow bogs.

The splash of water drew everyone's attention.

"Does the word, 'stealth and quiet' mean anything to you, McKay?" John couldn't help but snark with a grin.

"Oh come on!" McKay snapped, wiping the water from his brow only to leave smears of mud all over his face. "The bugs alone drown out any noise we might make. Besides, there's_ nothing_ on this planet! The scanner's a blank and the life sign detector's is useless thanks to all the wildlife. I fail to see what you hope to accomplish with a three hour trip through these marshlands from hell!"

"How about," Sheppard spoke annoyed. A sharp sting radiated from his neck and he swatted yet another one of this planet's local inhabitants. "I'm doing all this to torture you!" He reached out a hand to clasp it around Rodney's fist and then pulled his friend back onto his two feet.

McKay glared at him.

"Besides, Ronon's been here before, and he distinctly remembered an _Ancient_ structure somewhere around," he waved at his surroundings, "here."

"I think it's this way," Ronon put in, having trudged back from the front of the group when he'd spotted McKay taking a dive.

Sheppard noted with grim amusement that the former Runner didn't seem bothered by the heat in the least. He looked obscenely comfortable, while part of John, he had to admit, agreed wholeheartedly with Rodney. A lone leafless tree appeared here and there in the ever present mist. The white moisture rolled over soggy, reed covered ground in waves giving the impression that it should be mind numbingly cold, instead of smothering hot. He looked up as the last member of his team appeared from behind Ronon.

"Colonel," Teyla spoke quietly as she moved closer. She seemed to negotiate the traitorous bogs with ease, her light weight making her glide over them with no _slurpy_ sounds whatsoever. "According to Ronon," she nodded at the Satedan who was lifting a huge clump of grass from McKay's backpack, "we are very close, but we should proceed as quickly as possible now. It will be getting dark soon."

Sheppard agreed. He'd learned long ago not to doubt Teyla's or Ronon's survival skills. As a natural born leader to her people, Teyla seemed to have a instinctive grasp of the land's layout around them, of any planet they would find themselves on really, while Ronon, having been a Runner for a number of years, seemed to have a knack for sensing trouble ahead.

"Okay, Teyla, take point, I'm right behind you," John decided. Then looked back at Rodney. "Ronon, stick with McKay, make sure he stays upright."

"Oh yeah, like you're so steady on your feet, Sheppard!" Rodney pointed out, "If I hadn't caught you when you stepped through the Stargate you would have disappeared ten feet into the ground!"

"I was told the ground was solid!" John couldn't help but take the bait. The experience didn't sit well with him. He could still taste the foul water he'd involuntary swallowed as he'd stepped off the gate platform only to sink right through the sturdy looking grassland into the cold and horrifyingly deep bog. Luckily, McKay of all people had dived forward to grab hold of his TAC vest. And then it had taken him fifteen minutes to get back to Atlantis, change into dry clothing and gear, and head back out again.

Ronon grunted, clearly not happy with the job of having to watch McKay. "It was solid, last time I was here."

"The marshlands shift, colonel," Teyla put in. "They grow and shrink, almost seeming to… breathe. Apparently the grounds have changed in these last few years."

"Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever." McKay sighed. "Can we get going now? The sooner we find this so called structure and realize it's nothing but the Ancient version of an outpost complete with diner and toilet facilities the better."

Choosing to ignore that last remark, John started to walk. As they proceeded to follow Teyla on the small path she'd managed to find, he swallowed away the bile in his throat. _What I should've done was visit the infirmary and let Beckett check me out. _No telling what was in the water he'd swallowed. Still, there hadn't been time, not if he wanted to be back before night fall. "I don't understand," he spoke to McKay over his shoulder to get his mind off the foul taste. "Usually you're the first in line to explore an Ancient structure. I thought you'd be thrilled at the possibility of finding another power source."

Ronon nodded with emphasis. "Atlantis could use one."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Like I don't know that!" To John's satisfaction he kept his voice low. Despite his lack of training, the scientist was becoming better at picking up military techniques with every mission they went on. "Look, how many times do I have to tell you," he continued as if explaining it to a five year old. "There is _nothing_ here. If there was we would have detected it the moment we stepped through the gate. But my scanner's a blank, no sign of anything remotely advanced, no force fields, no power and thus no Zero Point Modules."

In front of them Teyla froze. John immediately raised his fist, cutting off the conversation behind him as his people halted in their tracks and eyed their surroundings warily.

More trees had sprung up here and there, and the mist had grown thicker, clinging to their skin with wet and sticky fingers.

A twig cracked to the right of them.

John whipped around, just before all hell broke lose around them.

* * *

Rodney yelped as Ronon yanked him backwards, just as something rough passed his skin, burning his cheek with sharp intensity._ Nets! Someone's throwing nets!_

Around them figures appeared, seeming to drift out of the mist. White ragged clothing clung to skin blank from what looked like lack of daylight. Their features were twisted with something. Anger? Hate? Rodney lifted his 9 mm but their adversaries were too well prepared, merging with the fog before he could fire. _These people can't be here! They didn't show up on the scanner! _

Sheppard's voice broke his concentration. "Warning fire, only!" his friend sounded from somewhere ahead. "Back to the gate!"

Rodney peered into the mist surrounding him like a wall. "Which way! I can't see a thing!" Could he help it if his voice had a slight edge to it? No.

Teyla was suddenly there, running by him. "Rodney, move!"

He turned and started to run, desperately trying to keep up with the others. He could hear Sheppard covering their retreat, but the people who attacked them had a different plan in mind.

Suddenly a shape appeared in front of him. He turned on his heels only to find another ghostly figure closing in from behind. A _WHEEZING_ noise sounded and again Ronon yanked him sharply to the side, keeping the heavy netting from descending on top of them both. Forced to veer off course, Rodney realized with horror that their attackers had succeeded in splitting them up.

He hit the radio in his ear. "Sheppard! Sheppard!"

"_I'm fine! Can't see a damn thing, though. Keep running!"_

The answer came through heaving breaths, telling McKay that John was still on the move. He had no time to feel relieved though. Ronon was still with him, urging him onward. Water splashed up to his knees as with every step he feared he would sink down into one of the bogs. Finally the Runner halted in his tracks.

Rodney, stood beside him, heaving, warm moisture dripping off his eyebrows. He wiped it away, while nervously keeping his gun trained on their surroundings. He had no idea where they were. Visibility was down to a couple of feet and the whiteness seemed to have thickened in the last few minutes.

After what seemed like ages, Ronon finally lowered his weapon. "I think we lost them."

_THUD._

He whipped around to see his friend drop to the ground, hands clutching the spear lodged in his upper leg. "Ronon! Oh God!" More spears appeared through the air, fast, sharp and accurate. Ronon scrambled out of the way, while McKay frantically backed off, losing sight of his team mate. "Ronon!" Tendrils of mist swirled around him, keeping him from seeing anything. He heard a sudden plash. "RONON!"

The quietness of the marshlands revealed nothing.

He was alone.

"So not good, so not good." This reminded him of that bad pirate movie Sheppard made him watch last week. He distinctly recalled the crackle of the one eyed Captain, telling his men to move in quietly. 'They're way easier to kill if they're alone,' the pirate had hissed. 'Cut them off from each other, then move in.' The movie had excelled at showing the deaths of the victims in the most hideous ways possible: a sword coming from out of no where, a spiked pit piercing the unfortunate soul who fell in it, blades slicing the fellow in half. Was that someone laughing like mad? Or was it just his imagination. Anxiously watching his surroundings McKay hit the microphone again. "Sheppard, Teyla," he whispered as loud as he dared. "Ronon's down, where the hell are you?"

All he received was static.

"Sheppard!"

Nothing.

The fog clogged his airways, pressing in on him from all sides. He blinked away moisture dripping from his eyelashes, while trying to keep his claustrophobia at bay. _Okay, clear blue skies, clear blue skies. _He looked up. _Who am I kidding? There's as much clear blue sky here as there's clowns in Sheppard's room! Oh, I'm so dead._

Something moved.

Trembling, he aimed at the white faced shapes closing in on his position. He turned, trying to assess their numbers. There were at least a dozen of them, some pointing spears, others carrying heavy nets.

"Uh, can't we talk about this? No? I mean, you don't have to use… those." Rodney eyed the spearheads warily. "I uh… don't suppose you'll consider telling me what you've done with the others? My team mates? 'Cos I'd really hate to be the only one to get… caught."

The ghostly figure closest to him pushed a spear into his chest.

"Right." Dropping his gun, Rodney raised his hands in surrender.

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: **thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews. Even though my other stories seemed to fair well, it is always daunting to start writing in a new fandom, but your comments have made me a very happy girl and make want to write more!

At this point I would like to thank my two betas who both have been a tremendous help in jump starting my muse. _Starsky's Strut_ for her continues support even though this is not her fandom. Without her, I wouldn't have posted this. And _Llanea _for offering her excellent proofreading skills and helping me keeping the characters in check and restore my faith in this fandom. All remaining mistakes are mine.

As I'm struggling with the final chapters, I feel fairly safe to post chapter two.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Ugh, why was his mouth so dry? Spitting out what looked like sand, Sheppard heaved himself up from the floor. _What floor?_ Feeling the dirt beneath his fingers, he blinked, trying to get his bearings.

All he remembered was the wetness, the smothering heat, and he and Teyla running through damp reeds and shallow bogs. Nausea rose from the pit of his stomach as he tried to stand up. He coughed in an attempt to negate the sickness from rising up his throat. God, he felt awful.

The darkness around him stood in sharp contrast to the blinding whiteness of the misty marshlands. Nets, there'd been nets. And had he heard McKay shout?

He reached for his radio, only to scrunch his face when it wasn't there.

"Colonel, look out!" Teyla's voice sounded sharply from close by. Lifting his head, he was just in time to see a knife bearing down on him.

It was pure instinct and training that saved him from being sliced through from hip to shoulder. He rolled and was back on his feet before he realized what he'd done. His stomach knew though. Backing off, he swallowed a few times to fight down the queasy feeling.

Ronon emerged from the darkness, hazel eyes brimming with the look he carried when he was about to kill someone.

John swallowed. He didn't like being on the receiving end of that glare. "Hey, buddy," he spoke confused, stepping back.

Suddenly Teyla stood beside him. Shooting him a bewildered look. She stood poised, holding out a knife of her own against their advancing team member. "I have tried, John. But he does not seem to hear or see us."

The right side of her temple sported a purplish bruise and he was about to ask if she was okay when Ronon lashed out with a smooth move that would've cut John in half had he not jerked out of the way.

"I'd say he can see us just fine!" he drawled angry, not taking his eyes off his friend. "Where the hell are we?" Other than a weak light coming from somewhere up above, the darkness was all encompassing. From the lack of light he deduced he was inside.

"I do not know. I woke up just before you did." She tilted her head a bit.

"Headache?"

"They used… excessive force trying to capture us. Are you okay?"

Sheppard rubbed his own sore temple, grunting a positive. Funny thing was, he didn't remember being knocked out, but judging by the piercing needles in his skull, he must have been taken out the same way Teyla had been. "What about Ronon?"

"I was just in time to keep him from attacking you. He behaves… irrationally."

Ronon growled and started to circle them.

Sheppard turned on his heels. _Damn it! _Not knowing where he was put him at a severe tactical disadvantage. He couldn't afford to hit a wall while fighting the big guy - which he still hoped to avoid, by the way. He frowned at the runner's movements. Pouncing and growling just wasn't Ronon's fighting style. Well… growling, maybe. But pouncing? Maybe he was drugged? "Ronon. You really don't want to kill your commanding officer, now do you?"

All he got was another growl in return.

_That sounded an awful lot like 'I do,' _Sheppard thought, keeping his guard up. Even though he was skilled in the most advance fighting skills, he knew the former Runner could kick his ass if he wanted to. _Especially if he's the one holding the weapon. _

Teyla tried again, more forcefully this time. "Ronon, listen to me! Remember your home planet, Sateda? Remember Atlantis? We are teammates. Colonel Sheppard, you, Rodney and myself."

Sheppard grimaced. _McKay doesn't seem to be here. That's a good thing, I guess. _Of course, if his chief scientist were lying unconscious on the floor somewhere he wouldn't know, because beyond a few feet, he couldn't see a damn thing.

The Satedan let out an uncharacteristic howl, startling the hell out of Sheppard and sending shivers up his spine. _Now that does not sound like you, buddy. _Without warning Ronon lunged forward, straight for Teyla.

John dropped to the ground to kick the Runner's feet from underneath him. Dex went down with an angry hiss, used his momentum to roll over and sight Sheppard instead. Cursing the dizzy spells attacking him, he scrambled away from the Runner, back onto his feet. He focused on the Satedan's face, now twisted in a wry smile.

"Okay, you first then." Ronon voiced, obviously enjoying himself.

"John!"

Teyla's knife landed in the dirt in front of him and he picked it up. Ronon lashed out, missing him by inches, and then dashed to his other side. Grunting, John ducked as the Satedan came from behind. Adrenaline spiked his body, but he refrained from moving in when he saw an opening. "Ronon! Don't. Do. This." He hissed.

Ronon either didn't listen or didn't hear him. Instead, he lashed out at Sheppard once again.

_Damn it! _John jumped aside, grabbed his friend's arm and twisted it around the man's back. With a grunt of pain, Ronon dropped the knife.

John spoke lowly, still refraining from using his weapon. His muscles ached as he tried to keep his far taller and heavier friend in check. If he couldn't make him listen, if he couldn't make him stop… Ronon was far too dangerous, and a far too experienced a soldier to take chances with. His hands, locked around the man's wrist and biceps, trembled with exertion. "Damn it, Ronon! Don't make me do this."

Ronon let out a yell and tugged hard enough on his arm to yank it out of its socket if John didn't let go. Still trying to protect his way-out-of-line team mate, Sheppard released his grip instantly, leaving his defence open enough for Ronon to deliver a vicious blow to his stomach. He flew backwards to land hard on the unforgiving packed soil. The air had been sucked out of his lungs. Bouts of pain shot through John's midsection and he gaped in an attempt to get his breathing going again. Through blurry eyes he noticed with dismay that Dex had changed direction and headed straight for the now unarmed Teyla.

Being smaller and lighter on her feet, Teyla would have managed to easily stave off the attack if she hadn't bumped into what looked like a rough stone wall just then. She recovered quickly enough and spun on one foot to strike the Satedan hard in the stomach with the other. Ronon was quick, grabbing the foot and pulling her to the ground.

_Damn it! _Sheppard cursed again. He'd counted on Teyla to keep her defence up. She was, after all, the better fighter when it came to hand to hand combat. But the knock on her head obviously slowed her down. John could tell by the way she squinted that the headache was bothering her.

Before she could retaliate, Ronon had gripped her by the throat, pushing backwards until she hit hard unforgiving stone. Dex squeezed, pinning her against the wall. Her hands clawed unsuccessfully at the steel muscle choking her. Her eyelids drooped as the breath and fight were squeezed out on her.

_Teyla!_ John raced forward. Coming in from the back, he held the knife at his friend's throat. "Let her go."

But Ronon was way beyond reason. He tightened his grip, grunting with pure rage and with his free hand groped for John's knife hand.

_Crap! _His mind raced, searching for an opening. If he let the Satedan get the upper hand again, Teyla would die. He had no choice and tried to lower the knife, aim for a less vital area, but Ronon wouldn't cooperate. Quick as a whip the man turned around, causing Sheppard to rake his throat instead. Dex dropped to the ground while Teyla slid down the wall, unconscious.

John stepped away feeling a numbness spreading through him. He suddenly found himself on the floor, staring at his two team mates, both lying still in front of him. Horror at what he'd done kindled a surprisingly strong revulsion against his ability to kill. With a shaking hand, he reached out. The sticky substance of still warm blood oozed between his fingers when they tightened on the Satedan's shoulder.

His vision blurred.

Ronon's form shifted and changed until an unfamiliar body lay spread out in front of him. "What the-" Snatching his hand back, Sheppard looked at the guy in shock. The man, easily as tall and heavy as Ronon, wore the same rags that he'd seen those white ghosts wear earlier. Too rattled to keep his confusion from showing, he grimaced.

"A wraith worshipper, Colonel."

John whipped around at the sudden voice.

A figure glided into view, eying him with disgust. She looked just like the rest of the ghostly people: long light hair masked by a pale face, no older then forty. She was dressed in red instead of white, telling John that she must held some sort of authority. He would have pegged her for a Wraith if only her face weren't human. "Your loyalty amazes me," She continued in a bored voice. "I counted on you to kill him much sooner."

Piercing green eyes looked upon him coldly. Hardening his voice, he returned the lack of expression in the woman's square features. "I take it, he was never Ronon to begin with?"

The answer came swiftly. "No. That was just an illusion. A worshipper trained to fight. To see how you would react."

Careful not to let his relief show, for this meant the Runner was still out there, probably safe and sound with McKay on Atlantis by now, John nodded. "And Teyla?" Although it went against his every instinct to turn his back on his enemy, worry for his team member overruled his common sense. Hoping to God she was all right, he carefully pressed two fingers on her neck, feeling for the beating artery. The throb of a soft pulse made him release his pent up breath.

She was alive.

"She's who she always was," the woman behind him answered calmly and snapped her fingers.

John turned to watch four white clothed male guards step into view. "What is this place?" He asked icily.

The woman walked forward, forcing him to look up. "It's an arena belonging to a testing facility." She stopped. "You, John Sheppard, will call me Llorena. And the next time I throw you in here, you better kill whoever's attacking you more quickly than you did now."

John quirked his head, raising his chin in defiance. "And if I don't?"

Llorena squatted down, her face mere inches from his. "If you don't," she nodded at Teyla. "We'll make sure your friend here won't leave this facility alive."

* * *

Cold seeped in through the concrete floor. Rodney shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest in an attempt to stay warm.

They'd taken his gear, but not his jacket. Thank God for small favors.

From his position on the bed, McKay glared at the white tiled walls lining the confines of his cell. Because that's where he was. Again. In some underground bunker with low and behold, a whole row of creepy, empty cells. Just once he would like to find himself hold captive inside a high tech facility… with force fields. Those he could deal with, those he could circumvent. The bolts on this massive iron door however, were held in place by the old fashion lock and key.

The cell was no bigger than his bathroom back on Earth. There was even something resembling a toilet in one corner. Careful to stay away from that, Rodney focused on the small window in the door instead. _Oh that's just great. Iron door, white tiles, all that's lacking is the restrains on the bed and we've got ourselves one of those isolation rooms found in an insane asylum. Sheppard's favorite movies are really way too accurate. _Involuntarily his eyes drifted down to the cot he was sitting on. It had a mattress, but that was it. There were no leather straps of any kind.

The level of technology, from what he'd seen of it while being dragged toward this cell, The doors, the locks, the way beams supported the ceiling, made him think of the Genii, actually. He swallowed away the bile of fear. If those power hungry psychopaths got their hands on him… There was no telling what they would make him do. _Make bombs, probably. Or worse. _And it_ always _seemed to be something worse. He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm, but that was hard to do with the image of Ronon falling caught on his retina. He had to remind himself that the big guy was strong, and a survivor. _Who're you kidding, McKay. You're lucky if he didn't drown wounded like that. How long do you suppose it'll take him to get back to the Gate and get help? _

Too long.

Maybe Sheppard and Teyla had found the Satedan. And then what?

His captors had taken him underground, through tunnels, which had blast doors locking one section from the other. There'd been an Ancient transporter, taking him to God knows where. And another, placing him even deeper into the planet's crust. His only consolation was that at least the rest of his team wasn't here. They would come for him, wouldn't they? If they could? _Well, Ronon definitely wouldn't, thanks to him. If only Sheppard hadn't ordered him to protect me. I wouldn't have slowed him down, he wouldn't have been…_

_We don't leave people behind, Rodney. _Sheppard's voice droned through his head. A memory insisting to be heard.

He knew that_. _But it was hard to keep faith, to hold on to hope when all he could think of was the white walls closing in on him.

Footsteps shook him out his reverie. Rodney straightened. There was nowhere to hide, so he swallowed, steeling himself for what was to come.

* * *

A scream perforated the still air.

Ronon heaved himself up, grasping at reeds, at patches of grass, at anything capable of holding his weight so he could pull himself out of the water. Darkness had descended and he had no idea how long ago McKay had been taken by those people. He'd tried to get back to the scientist, but his unexpected dive into the murky water, coupled with the crippling leg wound caused him to nearly pass out. It was all he could do to stay awake, stay focused, so he could live to fight another day. He'd lost his radio, and had been hiding, drifting in the water through wiry plants until he'd found a patch of dry land.

There he'd dressed his wound and had decided to wait until nightfall before attempting to make a run for the Stargate. He didn't remember at what point his leg went numb, or when he finally did pass out for that matter. When he woke up, this world's sun had already set and the night promised to be as cold as it was hot during the day time. Trouble was, he'd been on an island, and getting to dry land had meant lowering himself into the bog again.

With a yell of pain he lifted himself onto the soggy path, dragging his useless leg behind him. He'd seen enough wounds to know this one was infected. _That's what you get from diving into these dirty waters. _

Gritting his teeth, he attempted to stand up. If Sheppard hadn't been caught, he would have come for him already. In the time he'd spent with the Lanteans, he'd learned that much. He grunted, he wasn't easily scared, but the thought of losing all that he'd gained made him discard common sense to take the route back to the Stargate.

Swaying on his feet, he staggered forward and recklessly headed in the direction McKay had been taken in.

* * *

_Oh no,_ Rodney gasped, fear running rampant at the sight of his captor walking in. It took every ounce of will power to not back off on the bench.

"Doctor McKay, how nice to see you again."

Schooling his features, McKay looked at Kolya in disgust "Yeah, well, the feeling's not mutual."

Kolya's grin didn't reach his eyes. "I must admit our meetings up till now have been somewhat strained."

"Strained? You tried to kill us!" Rodney blurted, unable to help himself. "You tried to take Atlantis," he sniped. And, oh yeah, how can I forget our merry time in that pit where you forced Sheppard to do the Indy death trap puzzle. He should've killed you on sight."

"Now, now, now, Doctor McKay. Such a lust to kill. That doesn't sound like you. What happened to the scientist I've come to know so well."

Rodney didn't answer, piercing his captor with a dark glare. He hadn't mentioned their last horrible encounter when Kolya had forced them all to watch a Wraith slowly drain the life out of Sheppard. "What do you want?" he asked bitterly.

Kolya crossed his arms. "I want you to help me fix something."

_Not a chance in hell. _"Of course you do," he snapped, raising his chin. "What?"

The leader of the renegade Genii laughed. "Oh I know that look. Obstinate until the end. I don't think a cut in the arm will suffice this time. You've really become quite courageous, haven't you, McKay? Good for you."

Startled, Rodney absentmindedly rubbed the scar on his lower arm. Kolya got him to talk then, but that was ages ago, when not only his, but also Elizabeth's life was at risk. This time there was no one to protect. Apart from himself that was. Fighting to keep the panic at bay, he waited for Kolya to continue.

"There's this Ancient device that the Wraith used for their own ends. I need you to help me adapt it for our needs."

Rodney snorted. "You have your own scientists, incompetent as they may be, I'm sure they'll come up with something."

"Who said anything about needing your scientific skills?" The man grabbed his upper arm in a steel grip, yanking him painfully upwards. McKay felt his resolve crack when Kolya's voice hardened. "No, Doctor McKay, you're going be my guinea pig."

Rodney gritted his teeth, refusing to flinch. With cold grey eyes only inches from his face, Kolya's voice dripped with hatred as he finished his explanation. "And it's up to you whether or not there's anything left to find when Sheppard eventually does come for you."

"So you can kill him." Rodney stated, surprised by the bitterness in his own voice.

"All in good time, Doctor," Kolya backed off. "All in good time."

* * *

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: **thank you all so much for reviewing. Also thanks to those who put this story on alert. Kudos go to Llanea for providing me with the name Llorena and to Strut for actually buying season 1! It usually takes me a few chapter to get to the good stuff, so this is a build up for chapter four where… well, you'll see. I've been told Sheppard is acting a little off character. Suffice it to say that this is on purpose. It freaks him out too. G. All will be explained in due time._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_An arena, I'm underneath a goddamn arena!_ He didn't feel at all like Russell Crowe. '_The Gladiator' didn't say anything about shape changing adversaries! _Sheppard thought accusingly and eyed the few cells to his left beneath the arena's playing ground. They looked more like cages to him. A couple of feet in diameter, the cell's clear iron barred boundaries looked poorly maintained. The sturdy steel didn't allow breaking through though. He tried. Out of reach, on the corridor wall, two torches set in brackets illuminated the place in a soft yellow. The rest of the cells were unoccupied.

There was only one cot lining the brick wall in the back, and he'd put Teyla down on it. That was hours ago. He'd slept uncomfortably on the concrete floor and now the cold seemed to be lodged deeply within him. Try as he might, he couldn't stop shivering. In an effort to warm himself up, he angrily paced the small confines of his prison.

Teyla was unconscious again, which was unsettling to say the least. He'd given her some water last night when she'd briefly woken up. _Was it last night? _Which one of Llorena's minions was kind enough to bring, but if anything it dosed her even more. Suspecting the liquid to be tampered with, he refrained from using it himself, even though he was thirsty as hell. His stomach growled in its demand for food, but John ignored it. He felt woozy though and light headed, much more than should be the case, considering his usual strong stamina.

The main cell door, a wooden construction right next to their current lodgings, opened with a creak. The draft caused the torch to flicker and create eerie shadows on the walls as Llorena stepped through. She stopped short of the bars, studying Teyla like she was some kind of experiment. "Ah, the drug is working well."

"What did you do to her?" John demanded, gripping the iron rods with whitening knuckles.

Llorena's eyes lifted to meet him, her red dress leaving not much to the imagination. The carefully placed smile on her face did nothing to light his heart. "She will wake up, once you have done your duty."

John took a deep breath, stepping back. "I'm not going to fight any more of your battles."

The grin faltered, leaving the glare of a cold hearted killer. "You win, she wakes. If you lose or if you refuse to cooperate, she will never open her eyes again. The drug in her system is slow but deadly. It takes a couple of antidotes to counteract the effects. You will fight for each of them."

He tilted his head, then grimaced. "Why are you doing this? What's the point?"

Llorena shrugged. "We need the practice, John. And what better way to hone our skills using the Wraith's menace."

"I take that as a compliment. We do kick your bosses assess from time to time, but that's no reason to…" He frowned, realizing something. "Wait a second. How did you know my name?"

"We have our sources. We know your name, the names of your teammates and why you're here. We also know you're from Atlantis. But not much more than that." She leaned in. "Care to tell me all about the city's weak points?"

John kept silent.

"No? I didn't think so." Llorena clicked her fingers and a few more minions appeared.

This really started to annoy him. "What? Time for round two already?"

She didn't answer, just opened the cell door and waited for him to move out.

Reluctantly he complied.

* * *

"Scanners show nothing, Doc," Major Evan Lorne grunted, peering out of the windshield of Jumper two.

"I know, son. It doesn't mean they're not here. We just have to search the whole bloody area again."

Frustrated, Lorne turned the jumper mid-air, starting a search pattern lower to the ground. Doctor Beckett must have caught on to the worry in his voice but luckily decided not to mention it. "Something's blocking the sensors. Maybe it's all this damn fog."

They needed to stay focused.

After Sheppard had failed to check in, search teams were immediately dispatched. With four jumpers strong, Lorne had figured it would just be a matter of time before they found the flag team. Even if they were wounded, the flat marshlands would have given away any signs of life easily. Scanners appeared to be useless though, and the mist blocked any clear view from above, making a search from the air nearly impossible. Still, he hesitated to proceed on foot. Whatever had happened to Sheppard's team, could happen to them.

"Aye, it's hard to see down there. Reminds me of Scotland, actually. Best way to do a search there is to use dogs."

"Yeah, well, we don't have those, so you just keep looking out of that windscreen." Lorne tried the radio again, but as so many times before received only static in return.

Beckett sighed, "We've been searching all night. Chances are they got captured and taken off planet. If that happened…"

_We never find them again._ "_If_ that happened I'm sure Doctor Zelenka will figure out where they went," he finished instead.

"You know as well as I do, Major, that deriving the last dialed Gate Address on the DHD is problematic to say the least. As good as Zelenka is, even Rodney would have a hard time at it."

Lorne sucked in a deep breath, keeping his attention on the misty ground below as he skimmed the jumper over yet another endless rivulet.

"WAIT!"

The Jumper reacted instantly to his mental command, and even with the inertial dampeners on line, Lorne still felt the G-forces pulling at him as the vehicle was brought to a sudden stop. "What? What?"

"I thought I saw something."

Lorne lowered the ship until it was only a few feet from the ground.

"There!" Beckett pointed at a shape lying face down in the mud.

The major inwardly applauded the physician's eyesight. He never would have spotted him. Covered in dirt, between soggy reeds, Ronon was practically camouflaged.

"Right, taking us down."

* * *

John blinked. If only he would be able to see through the illusion. He had no idea if the guy in front of him was the wraith worshipper he pretended to be or someone else entirely. Could even be a girl for that matter.

The lighting was the same as it always was. Barely there. But this time, John had a better picture of his surroundings. A huge, round battleground. Which gave him a fair amount of space to move around in. Again, he'd only been given one knife.

This scrawny fellow was fast though, almost unnaturally so. According to Llorena, he'd trained in this arena for a long time. John's only chance was to stick to the shadows and make sure the guy couldn't get at him from behind. Judging from his opponent's lack of weight, Sheppard figured the guy would use his agility and quick reflexes to win.

He never saw it coming. One moment he stood poised for attack, and the other he was flying through the air and hitting the grey wall with a dull thud. For a moment he saw stars, his eyesight went and his limbs refused to move. _Good going, John! Underestimate his strength!_

Pulling his legs underneath him, he made a poor attempt to stand up. Cramps attacked his stomach, nausea surfaced unannounced and he sat frozen for a second as his body refused to cooperate. _What the hell! Get up, John. GET. UP! _A shadow appeared above him. Ignoring his sore muscles, he rolled, slicing his opponents flesh right above the heel, The guy went down with a cry. Sheppard was on top of him in no time. Foul breath wafted in his face as his attacker struggled to get free. Despite the grip on his wrist, John relentlessly pressed the knife down. Teyla, It was either her or this guy.

His vision swam. _Damn it. No, not now. _

"John!" Instead of the scrawny fellow it was Teyla who he now held at knifepoint, her brown eyes large with despair. "Colonel, please. Listen to me!" He blinked, hesitating for just a second.

It was a second too long.

Teyla slammed him full force into the wall. The blow knocking all the air out of his lungs. He gasped, trying to get up, but it was like moving in molasses. She gripped his shirt, hauling him upward against the brickwork. A part of his mind registered that this was severely un-Teyla like. "You're not her," he bit, clawing at the steel arm holding him in place.

The apparition grinned widely, dissolving and solidifying again before his eyes.

John's eyes widened.

"No, I'm not," the Wraith spoke with a hiss and pulled back to slam his feeding hand into John's chest.

Sheppard didn't hesitate and plunged the knife into the creature. _This oughta kill ya. _The Wraith staggered. Another thrust and it dropped like a stone.

Heaving, John slid down the wall, waiting anxiously for the writhing body to change into something else again. It didn't. _Must have been severely weakened to die so soon. _Trembling with fatigue, he felt heavy, he felt… sick. He belatedly realized these crappy feelings might have less to do with his recent fight and more with the swim in the swamp. _This is not good. _The strain to keep his eyes open became too much and he let the darkness overwhelm him.

* * *

Clouded in shadows, Llorena watched the battle from the back row of the stalls. Sheppard's victory and the sudden spark of respect for his perseverance left her surprised. _Too bad. This was the only Wraith we ever caught. Perhaps we shouldn't have kept it starving._

She studied the white ragged servants who were cleaning the arena. They didn't seem at all upset by the creature's demise. Even though their ancestors might have been Wraith worshippers, these people were only their descendents and apart from holding on to the traditional clothing and face paints, they held no respect for the Wraith.

Llorena clenched her hands together and pressed them to her lips. They didn't have a Wraith anymore… but they did have something else. She felt the corners of her mouth twisting upwards with barely contained pleasure.

Oh yes. The next battle was one Sheppard couldn't win.

* * *

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's notes: **__thanks so much for your wonderful reviews, and I'm applauding those of you who guessed correctly what Sheppard has to do next. Let me just repeat myself and tell you that this is NOT a death story. As usual thanks go to my wonderful betaes: Lleana and Strut for making this story so much better than it was._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Teyla woke with a start, gasping for air as she instantly recalled Ronon's choking pressure on her throat. Her eyes shot open, taking in her surroundings. Confused she found herself on some cot. Gradually, iron bars gained shape, confirming that she was held prisoner. "John… Ronon." She thought she'd spoken out loud, but her voice was no more than a whisper. Luckily the piercing lances in her skull had receded to a dull pounding.

Turning her head, Teyla became aware of an earthy sour smell and the cold, of the black clothed figure sitting on the floor beside her, resting his head on hands and knees. "John?" she croaked, raising her hand to rub her sore throat. "Colonel?"

To her relief, her friend raised his head, looking at her through bleary eyes. "Hey, Teyla," his smile was genuine. "Glad to hear you talking again."

With increasing concern, Teyla took in John's appearance. He looked tired, as if he'd run a thousand miles, and even in the dim light she could tell his color was off. His cheeks glistened with sweat and looking at his hands, she could tell they were shaking. "You look… unwell," she stated carefully.

Watching her notice his hands, he stretched out his legs and shoved them underneath. "Water's got me a bit off my game, but I'm fine."

Confused, she looked at the stone cup near his feet.

He shook his head. "No, I mean it's the bog, the swamp. The one I fell into, remember? I think it was contaminated. I've felt kinda woozy ever since."

Teyla frowned. For him to admit that meant he really didn't feel well. "You think it carried a disease?"

"Don't worry," he gave her a piercing stare. She couldn't help but notice he didn't answer her question. "It will pass," he emphasized. "A few germs aren't enough to keep me down."

Not feeling reassured in the least, Teyla anxiously looked around. "Where's Ronon?"

"He wasn't real."

"What?"

"It was an illusion. One minute he was Ronon, the next he was… someone else. Looked like one of those Wraith worshippers if you ask me. You know, the ones who caught us in the first place?"

"So," she desperately tried to get her head around the fuzziness in her brain. "Rodney and Ronon got away?"

"Yeah, won't be long now before the cavalry arrives."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

The colonel took in a deep breath, then pulled himself up and sat down on the cot. She smiled half heartedly, the close contact making her aware he was shivering. His eyes settled on the cup. "They drugged you," he stated carefully. "The Wraith worshippers put something in the water I gave you last night."

He studied her, obviously struggling with how much to tell her.

She tried to keep calm, but her voice betrayed her discomfort. She needed to know the truth and her friend's sudden silence only made her anxiety worse. "John."

His eyes seemed to darken as they fixed upon her. "It's only … harmful if I don't get you treated in time."

"Harmful as in lethal?" She pushed, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

"Teyla, you'll be fine," he emphasized.

Her eyes widened slightly but she regained control quickly enough. If only her throat was not hurting so much. Her headache had risen and her voice sounded thick through her pounding skull as she tried to express her worry. "John, You could not have known what was in the water. if you're feeling guilty…"

"No, no, it's not that," he hesitated. "You need the antidotes, and they won't give them to me unless I fight for them in that damn arena of theirs."

Teyla squinted, taking in his condition, assessing his tiredness, noticing the bruises now that he sat this close to her. "How many battles have you fought?" She didn't mean to sound demanding but it got her the required effect.

"One, not counting the one with … Ronon." He eyed her wearily. "I gave you the first set of antidote just now. It seemed to have done the trick, 'cos you woke up, but you need more after this."

"And to earn them, you have to fight?"

Teyla hated seeing the conflict burning behind eyes that now looked as pale as his face. He nodded. His quietness telling her he'd already made his decision. He would not let her die. "I uh… have to kill whoever they throw at me."

She frowned. "Like the one pretending to be Ronon_? _Did you know beforehand that he was not real?"

John briefly locked eyes with her. "Well, he wasn't," he replied.

His answer, or lack there of, told her enough. She couldn't even begin to imagine how he must have felt.

"And neither was the scrawny guy after that," John continued.

"Scrawny guy?"

"Yeah, turned out to be a Wraith."

Her breath caught. "A Wraith? And you defeated him?"

"I'm here, ain't I?"

"That doesn't make sense. Why would a Wraith participate in these… games?"

John shrugged. "How about the promise of a good meal?"

"Colonel, I'm not sure I want you to-"

His harsh interruption didn't leave any room for discussion. "You need the antidote. So I will do this." He caught her worried gaze. "I'll just have to fight a few more times and maybe by then the cavalry will have arrived."

She nodded, reluctantly. "Perhaps." She closed her eyes and shot a quick prayer to the Ancestors. _They better hurry. _

* * *

The arena around him expanded perhaps half a stadium in every direction. He could just make out the curved pitch black walls surrounding the pit as he looked up. For a split second he imagined the ghosts from the past shouting and hooting as they filled up the empty seats ten rows deep just above the stone wall. But the huge place was empty now. Gaping darkness pressed in on him as he lifted himself off from the sand packed floor.

A rattle and a distinct clang told him that the gate leading down to the prison cells was opened and closed again.

The shadows around him seemed to move.

Rodney sat frozen on the spot, knife in hand. "Oh, this is so not good," he mumbled nervously. "Where ever you are!" he shouted, unable to keep the anxious squeak from his voice. "You better not come near me. 'Cos I'm armed. You hear that!" _Great going, McKay. Give away your position. Sheppard would kill me, if he knew._ The thought quieted him, hoping to God that the colonel was safe.

A shadow rushed past him and he pivoted on his feet just in time to feel someone –something- slam hard into his flesh just above his thigh. He opened his mouth to scream but other than a 'ngh' sound, nothing came out as pain instantly spread, rolling over him. He sank to the ground, his fingers losing their grip on the knife when his knees hit the packed dirt with a dull thud.

He felt the ground vibrating with footsteps, heard the sound of breathing.

The radio buzzed in his ear. _"Come on, Doctor. That's nothing but a scratch. Better get up if you want to live." _

Startled, Rodney kept one hand pressed on his side, while he hit the mike on his earpiece with the other. "Shut up. Shut. Up!" he hissed. His fingers came away from his thigh drenched with blood. Sucking up the dizziness he put his feet beneath him, picked up the weapon and staggered upward, knife held in front of him with shaking fingers.

Kolya merely laughed, sounding hollow and cold. _"It's all about survival, Doctor."_

A noise behind him and he whipped around, raking something soft with his knife. A sharp intake of breath told him he'd hit his mark. Whatever was in here with him backed off.

McKay breathed heavily, drops of sweat trickled down his brow and cheeks. Forcing himself to think he pondered his options. He figured out that the arena around him contained a distortion field. Meaning he could see and hear his opponent, but the field would twist his voice, his image, and his perception of reality.

"_You have to hand it to the Wraith, McKay,"_ Kolya spoke again.

Rodney had to suppress the urge to rip off the earpiece and throw it away. Kolya had given him the grand tour, and the workings of this arena were based on Ancient technology. But from what he'd seen, the Wraith had tampered with it. The life sucking aliens could make you see things that were not there, and they had probably used this place as a means to try and perfect their ability to create illusions on the ground. Their adaptations were also the reason that Kolya could handle the Ancient technology without having the gene. The commander had also managed to hack into the radio Rodney used.

Kolya continued sounding amused. _"They sure knew how to test their… specimens. Ever wondered how many people died right where you're standing now? These experiments must have told them so much about their pray. Exhilarating? Isn't it? Imagine my surprise to find all this technology, this arena, forgotten and deserted, except by the occasional abandoned Wraith worshipper descendant. It's really useful for combat training." _

_Oh great. Why do I get the feeling I'm_ not_ the one being trained here. _Gritting his teeth, Rodney grunted. Not wanting to think about the Wraith's purpose for this arena.

"_Unfortunately, the technology is somewhat in a state of disrepair as you saw. We need to study this arena in working condition, Doctor McKay. You should be thrilled at providing us so much scientific information just by participating in the fights."_

"If you want me to kill what's in here. Fine. Whatever suits your sadistic needs. Just don't expect me to revel in it," Rodney snapped, sweating with fear. The first time Kolya threw him in here, he'd fought a couple of knee high scorpions. He'd freaked out completely, certain he wouldn't leave the arena alive, but then something happened. Before the things were upon him they'd changed into harmless frogs, probably native to this planet. The second time a swarm of iratus bugs had attacked him but they turned out to be nothing but bats.

That time he'd figured out sooner what they were. _Guess Teyla's meditation is rubbing off on me, either that, or it's the ancient gene that's lifting the illusions._ He peered into the dark, trying to discern the shape of the thing attacking him. Somehow he'd doubted Kolya would keep throwing frogs and bats at him. He hated being right.

Without warning a surge of whiteness flashed by, way too close. The gleam of steel flashed in his face, reflecting the sliver of gray light originating from a small gap in the domed roof overhead. McKay fell backward in an attempt to avoid being cut open from neck to chest. He lost his weapon as he used his momentum to roll sideways. A move Sheppard had taught him.

Whoever was attacking him, he was human.

A human male.

"Can't we-" He hissed, rolling back and forth as the guy dressed in wraith rags kept stabbing and kept hitting empty ground. _One of Kolya's wraith worshipers, terrific. _"-talk about this?"

Slowed down by the wound to his side, Rodney moved sluggishly. He barely managed to catch the fist holding the knife bearing down on him. The tip of the blade hovered only inches from his chest. He grunted in panic, his face hardening as he looked up into his adversary's white face. Colorless eyes gleamed with the excitement of being so close to the kill. Rodney shuddered. If he could just… _see_ what he was up against.

He hadn't told Kolya about his ability to eventually see through the illusions. With effort he tried to twist his vision, like watching an Escher painting. The guy kept pushing. McKay grunted as the knife touched his skin, drawing a trickle of red through the blue of his uniform jacket he was still wearing.

Suddenly his vision clicked. The image before him shimmered. Changing, reforming, the rags turning dark, from flimsy to sturdy, from white to black. He caught the eyes now shading from gray to green to hazel, looking down at him. Rodney gasped. _Oh God! _His hands shook with the effort to keep the knife up and away from him. "Sheppard!" He squeaked in horror.

The colonel didn't see him. All he probably saw was the same enemy, the same illusion Rodney had just broken. "Sheppard!" The colonel froze, staring in bewilderment and McKay took the moment to roll away in panic. _Oh God. _Even on his best day, he wasn't a match for his friend's fighting skills. If he couldn't get through to him…

"You sick bastard!" He shouted in his microphone.

"Well, well, well… you figured it out," Kolya sounded way too smug.

Disgusted, Rodney pulled off the earpiece, throwing it away as he scrambled to his feet, trying not to cringe at the wound inflaming his side. He looked up, noticing with dismay that Sheppard looked deathly pale but determined to kill again. "John!" He held out a hand, stepping backward as his friend kept advancing. "Sheppard! Snap out of it! It's me, McKay! Sheppard!"

His friend staggered, halting his approach. "Mc…Kay?" A brief look of confusion crossed his face. Then steely eyes locked onto Rodney again. "What are you playing at? What did you do to him?"

"I… I… nothing. Look, it's me. This is an illusion!"

But John advanced again, holding the knife low this time.

Something hard and cold slammed in his back and Rodney realized he'd hit the arena wall. His eyes flicked from his friend's face to the weapon and back again. "John, it's me! Listen… Listen!" His flailing hands would have missed if John hadn't squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Rodney got hold of Sheppard's fist in a desperate attempt to keep the knife from plunging into his already blood soaked wound. John snapped his eyes open, trying to break the hold. "Ferris Wheels. You like Ferris Wheels! Oh, and football. Don't ask me how anyone could love a sport where all the men grunt like Neanderthals, but, well, there you go." He could feel his strength fading, his hand shaking ever harder as the fist slipped through his fingers. "Now hockey…" he spoke between gritted teeth. "… on the other hand…"

Suddenly the pressure fell away. John stopped pushing. "McKay?"

There it was, a glimpse of hope, the silver lining. "Yes. It's me." Rodney thought he saw a spark of recognition in his friend's eyes.

Sheppard blinked a couple of times.

Rodney swallowed. "John, it's me." He clenched his jaws as his fingers, slick with sweat slipped from Sheppard's fist. All hope shattered the moment John's expression changed into a look he'd seen his friend use on his enemy's often enough. Desperately squashing his growing panic, he called again. "Sheppard."

The coldness of his friend's voice hit him as hard as ice. "NO! This is the last time you've tricked me, Llorena!"

"No, don't!" Rodney stared at him in shock as the colonel broke his hold on the weapon and thrust the knife forward.

* * *

"McKay?"

John hated killing. He felt sorry for the haggard man in front of him, _wraith worshiper probably, _who feebly tried to talk his way out of this. For a brief second he wondered how the guy knew so much about him. But then he remembered Llorena telling him she had her 'sources.' No telling what kind of intel Llorena had acquired from that.

The haggard man sounded like McKay. But his previous experiences had taught him nothing was as it seemed in this place. Teyla had nearly been killed because of his failure the first time.

Not now though. Now he would finish the job. "NO!" he made sure he was heard. "This is the last time you've tricked me, Llorena!" He looked at the wraith worshipper in front of him. Gathering all his strength, he broke the man's failing hold of the knife.

"No, don't!"

_It even sounds like McKay now. _Grimacing, he hit flesh and pushed forward with a single thrust. A soft_ hmpf _escaped his victim's throat. The blue eyes widened, turned large and familiar. The image wavered, dropping the moment he knew the kill was complete. McKay looked up, trembling with shock, jaw open in disbelief.

Their eyes locked.

Sheppard just stared. _Rodney. _

Blood started trickling from the corner of his friend's mouth.

John felt his heart plummet a thousand miles before it reached the cold hard surface of reality, shattering into a million pieces. He knew he'd spoken. A deep grief filled 'No', but it sounded far away. His hand somehow had pulled back. He looked down at it, filled with horror at the sight of the blood stained knife and the deadly wound in Rodney's stomach. Dropping the weapon in shock, he looked up at his friend's shaking features.

Realizing he recognized him, a tight smile tugged at Rodney's lips. " 'S not… yur fault." He coughed, blood gurgling from his mouth. He started sliding down the wall.

Sheppard reached out. He didn't know who was shaking harder, him or Rodney. Then the trembling stopped and McKay's eyes closed.

Rodney sank to the ground, taking John with him.

* * *

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:**__ Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Here's the next chapter…_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Tired, Carson worked his way up the stairs and onto the walkway overlooking the Gate room.

Elizabeth looked up from behind her desk as he entered her office. "Any news?"

He slummed down in a chair before answering her. "I'm afraid not. Ronon's still unconscious and not responding to any stimuli. Whatever's in that water has one nasty punch. The lab's analyzing his blood work and the water right now. So far all I can tell is that it's attacking that part of the brain that keeps you awake."

She looked at him in surprise. "You know… those stories… -the ones where people get trapped in a swamp, drink the water and then fall asleep for hundreds of years- might have a grain of truth to them."

"Aye. In any case, I've put him on antibiotics for now, but if we don't get him treated with the right antidote, chances are he will never wake up."

"He'll die?"

Carson nodded solemnly.

"Carson."

He looked up, seeing the worry edged in her face.

"John fell in that water too. He must have swallowed some of it."

"I'm sure he's okay. From what I could deduce, Ronon's been in that water for far longer than Sheppard was. John's a strong lad. It's quite possible he'll manage to fight off the effects."

She studied him, her eyes conveying that she very well knew the chances of that happening were very small. He sighed, dropping the act. "We just-"

"-need to find him in time. Yes, I know," she finished. "You said that the water will cause you to fall asleep. So for all we know, he, Teyla and Rodney are lying around somewhere, same as Ronon."

_Or even worse, _Carson thought but didn't voice. _They could've fallen unconscious into one of those bloody bogs and drowned._ He shook his head. No. Lorne was still looking, still searching. It wouldn't be long now before he found them.

Elizabeth's expression mirrored his thoughts. "I'll have the teams prepare for a ground search. You just concentrate on finding the antidote, Carson," she spoke worriedly.

He nodded, pushed himself out of the chair and left the office.

**

* * *

**

Teyla got to her feet the moment she heard the characteristic sound of the main cell door being opened. She squinted into the darkness of the corridor, hoping that the colonel was alive and well.

Relief coursed through her as she noticed a familiar shape walking among the two guards. He seemed okay. But as they stepped closer and the guards moved to open the door she frowned with worry. "John?"

He didn't seem to recognize her, just staggered into the cell, seemingly in shock. She'd seen that look before on so many of her people when they'd lost a loved one to the Wraith. Even though they knew what had happened, their hearts and souls had shut themselves off, unable to deal with the massive trauma of losing someone close to them.

Suppressing the bitter bile of fear, she tried to draw him out. "John, what happened?" _By the ancestors, what have they done to him? _

Her friend walked over to the small wooden bench but remained standing, eyes unseeing. He opened his mouth, apparently to talk, but nothing came out.

"John," her worry grew proportionally larger as he didn't respond to her. Walking up to him, she took his hand in hers. "John!"

He flicked his eyes toward her. They were wrecked with grief, his face slack with shock. Teyla couldn't help but swallow at the overwhelming emotion so clearly emanating from deep within his soul. "Who?" She asked softly. "Who did you-"

Sheppard's hoarse voice halted her mid sentence. "McKay."

_What? No, Rodney is not here. He went back. Ronon was to ensure his safety_ "This cannot be true," she whispered_. _Wetness clouded her vision.

He stared at her. "They made me kill-" Sheppard cut himself off as his voice broke. Teyla watched his fisted fingers that were caked with dried blood. He whipped around so that all she saw was a trembling figure now standing with his back toward her.

"John, stop punishing yourself. You are not to blame." She felt more tears welling up and stepped forward to grab his shoulder, but he jerked himself free from her touch.

"Don't!" He spoke in a voice so cold she hardly recognized it as the colonel's. "Not yet. I need to be…" He walked to the opposite side of the cell and slid to the ground. Teyla watched him as he drew up his knees, folded his arms, and lowered his head on top of them.

Helplessness clenched deep within her stomach. She'd known about grief, had seen it in all its various forms. She'd lived through it herself many a times as most of her family had been taken by the Wraith. But this… Having to learn one of her friends was killed by one of his own, having to watch the other being destroyed by it… This was not something she was familiar with.

She lowered her eyes and prayed to the ancestors that whoever was in charge had not managed to push John Sheppard over the edge.

* * *

Teyla snapped her head up at the sound of footsteps. "Someone's coming," she hissed. John eyed the outer door before his gaze settled on her. With a grunt he got to his feet.

In the flickering torchlight, Teyla noticed his tense features as he moved to shade her from the door. She felt the 'don't talk to me right now' angry energy that he projected around him and more than anything she saw the grief and the deep seated anger that kept him going.

The red dressed woman, who John had talked about walked into the cellblock, followed closely by someone they all knew too well. John froze, his grip on the bars turning to steel.

"Kolya!" Teyla spat moving to stand next to the colonel.

Usually, Acastus Kolya showed no sign of the kick he got out of torturing people. To him it was just a means to an end. A way to get what he wanted. But this time, behind the pocketed stern face, Teyla read his obvious pleasure. He simply stood there, waiting for them to put two and two together. Disgust turned her stomach. "You set this up?" Her voice choked on her anger. "You pitted Rodney and the colonel against each other?" She felt her hands tremble and tilted her head, barely controlling her rapidly swelling rage when the gleam in Kolya's eyes confirmed her words. "For revenge?"

"I will kill you for this." Albeit soft, John's cold and icy tone easily matched her harshness.

"Just as you've killed Doctor McKay, I suppose?" Kolya retorted cold heartedly, turning toward him.

With a rage-filled cry, John flung himself into the bars and got hold of Kolya's arm. He jerked the man towards them and slammed the commander against the iron confines of their prison. The colonel's wrist locked around the man's throat, and it was obvious that he had no intension of letting go until the former Genii was dead. Kolya's strangled coughs became ever weaker as the life was pressed out of him.

Suddenly a wave of nausea suddenly barreled into Teyla and the floor swayed beneath her feet. She fell sideways and grabbed for the bars, gripping them hard to keep from toppling over.

"If you take his life," Llorena stepped into her line of vision, her voice arrogant and condescending. The way Rodney could sound when he was about to do something either against John's orders or something incredible heroic. A pang of grief nearly made Teyla miss Llorena's next words. "You'll take Teyla's."

Teyla caught her friend's glance. His restless eyes darkening with the obvious struggle between his worry for her and his need to end this. He looked so incredibly lost. Taking a deep breath, she spoke slowly. "John, you must do what must be done," she quickly conveyed. "I will not hold you responsible, should you choose to rid this universe of his filth."

"No Kolya, no antidote, Colonel." Llorena stated viciously. "So, what's it going to be?" She leaned into the two struggling men to speak calmly in John's ear. "Are you really prepared to kill another one of your friends?"

Without further words, John let go.

Kolya staggered away from him, hands lodged on his throat. Wheezing he turned around, his face red and puffy, and his eyes watering from the exertion of trying to breathe. "Just… for… that… Colonel," he coughed miserably, "the number of adversaries… inside the… arena… has gone up."

John glared at him. "I'm getting out of here, Kolya," he stated in a voice so cold it sent shivers up Teyla's spine. "And when I do you'd better run…" There was a short silence as he squinted, barely noticeable but Teyla picked up on it. "Because nothing's gonna stop me from killing you." Sweat dripped of his brow, his exhaustion apparent even to Llorena.

"He's got swamp fever!" She hissed, backing off with two quick steps.

Obviously knowing the show was over, John smirked, dropped his composure and staggered backward to land on the cot.

"Swamp fever?" Teyla asked worriedly, tearing her eyes away from John and back to their captors."

"The water sickness" Llorena elaborated. "The swamp we found you in carries a disease… The water… if you've swallowed it…" Her words trailed off.

Kolya straightened, his lips curling with a wry grin. "It tends to be very lethal. Lost your footing at some point, Sheppard?"

John's deadly glare was answer enough.

A cruel smile lit Llorena's face, who turned to Teyla. "The drug we administered you is a derivative from the water. However, since we added some juices of our own, its antidote won't work on Sheppard," she spoke gleefully, then paused to tilt her head. Teyla watched her coldly, refusing to show how weak she felt. "I'll send someone down with your beverage," Llorena continued, all triumph gone from her voice. "I suggest you drink all of it."

"Let's see how strong you really are, Colonel. We'll come back in the morning."

Kolya's simple statement sent shivers up Teyla's spine. She watched as he ordered Llorena to leave. At least the Wraith had reason to kill, it was a force of nature, it was instinct, but Kolya…

A noise behind her made her turn around. She was just in time to see John sink down on the bed. When she reached his side, he was already unconscious.

* * *

Positioned on what would be designated as higher ground in these godforsaken marshlands, Lorne ticked his radio. "Stackhouse," he ordered his man located at the Gate. "Dial Atlantis and get me Doctor Weir."

"_Yes, sir." _

Waiting for the connection, he bit his lip and watched the tendrils of gray mist swirling around him in the darkening sky. This mysterious illness creeped him out. It took the better part of the night before Beckett luckily had made sure that whatever was in the water, wasn't airborne and they could proceed with the ground search. There was no way they could've walked through these soggy bogs wearing Haz-Mat suits.

At least they were fairly sure now that none of Sheppard's team were lying unconscious on these grounds somewhere. If only Ronon could've told them more about what happened to them, but his condition was still touch and go. From what Lorne knew, the Satedan had crashed at least two times before Beckett managed to find the cure. He still hadn't woken up yet.

Lorne gritted his teeth, recalling how he had grinned as wide as the next man at the sight of his commanding officer returning through the Gate just minutes after Sheppard and his team had departed. _Soaking wet and covered in some slimy green substance. Not so funny now anymore, is it? God, there's no telling how much water he swallowed. We're running out of time. _

Elizabeth's strained voice sounded on his earpiece. _"Major, tell me you've got some good news."_

He heard the faint hope, the soft desperation, and the resolve that'd kept them all searching for two days now. Ahead of him an iron plated building, currently swarming with marines loomed out of the mist. "We found the Ancient structure that Colonel Sheppard set out to find. I think it's the source of all the interference."

Their Ancient based scanners and sensors still refused to work, frustrating Lorne to no end. It certainly would help to have their equipment up and running again.

"_Any signs they were there?"_

"No," he sighed, not having to ask who 'they' were. "The technology inside the structure's still intact," he continued. "What's more, it's turned on. We need a scientist to take a look at it, ma'am. If it's responsible for the distortion field, he might be able to switch it off. It could give us some insight into what happened."

"Is there anything else you need?"

_Yeah, a shave, a hot bath, feeling clean again._ "That'll do for now, ma'am," he said instead.

"_All right, Zelenka __will be there within the hour. Be careful out there, Major. Atlantis out."_

_Right, one hour. _He checked his watch. Although Zelenka was good, Lorne knew that without McKay's help it would take at least another couple of hours for them to shut down this field. Suddenly, a sharp cry shattered the early evening air. He snapped up his hand, aiming his P90 into wall of dense fog. Something small raced passed him, followed by a larger creature. Both disappeared with a plunge into the dark water. _Damn animals!_

Watching the treacherous bogs with unease, the major made his way off the dry patch, toward the structure again.

* * *

"Colonel?" Teyla thought she'd heard him moaning but wasn't sure. It had been a few hours since his collapse and she had not been able to wake him since. The last dose of antidote had cleared her dizziness and made her feel marginally better again. It also seemed to dull her headache considerably.

But John's condition grew steadily worse.

Apart from the swamp sickness he also suffered from a deep cut to the skin on his lower abdomen. She found it after attempting to clean the jacket he was wearing, only to realize that some of the blood was his. She had briefly stopped her administrations and lowered her eyes.

Pulling herself together, she'd focused on her work again. The wound could get infected if it went untreated, but the cut wasn't bad enough to cause trouble yet. It certainly didn't account for his weak condition. Teyla was not a fool. As a leader to her people, she was well versed in recognizing an illness if she saw one. Even back in the marshlands, she had noticed his heightened temperature, his paled complexion and shaking hands as he had fought hard to fight off whatever had been in the water. The Colonel was a strong man, but ever since Rodney died, his strength had waned.

She moved over to the cot and pulled away the hole filled blanket they had been given. The sight of him confirmed her worse fears. Glistening with sweat, his skin was whiter than she had ever seen. She put a hand on his forehead. _Fever._ He groaned again.

"John," she prodded, sitting down next to him, her voice full of concern. "John, you have to fight it!" Another moan. He was struggling. Waking up. One eyelid cracked open, flooding Teyla with relief. Her happiness was short lived as she noticed his eyes seemed to have lost all color.

He looked at her, shivering and taking short halted breaths. "Teyla?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"What… happened?"

"You… passed out."

He stared at her, confused, then worked himself up on one elbow. "Where are the others? Ronon, McKay?"

Her heart sunk. "You have no memory of past events?"

"I… Kind of… " Slowly his bewildered expression changed to understanding, he frowned, his eyes reflecting her pain as he remembered. He sought her out. "Did I…?" The devastation in his voice was enough to close her throat. Grief still too fresh, welled up. She wished she could tell him no. That it had been a bad dream. But all she could do was stay silent, finding herself unable to answer.

Slight muscle twitches in his face were the only evidence that he understood. That, and the intensity of his gaze, which turned inwards and closed up. He nodded.

"There was nothing you could do, John," she soothed softly. "Kolya tricked you."

"No, I could have listened." His voice ended in a groan as he gripped his abdomen. "He tried to tell me-"

"Rodney?" She stared at him. At eyes that refused to focus on her.

Grimacing, he lay back down again, obviously not wanting to talk about it. "Look, I'm really tired here."

Worried, she refrained from pushing any further. "I cleaned the cut as best I could with the water we had," she spoke instead. With a wound to his soul this deep, she knew John needed the open sky, the vastness of the big water, the wind in his face. Most of all, he needed a well placed sarcastic remark, and a strength found only in brotherhood that she couldn't give him.

Her hand clasped the one clamping down on his wound. John wasn't the kind to give up, but the brief memory loss and the fever had her worried. Not sure if sleep made his fever worse, it usually served to lessen the pain and heal the mind. So she let him relax, until she felt the grip beneath her fingers slacken and he had dozed off again.

* * *

**tbc**

**A/N:** I've been told that Sheppard acts a bit off character in this chapter. I found it kind of hard to predict how he would react to this situation. Also, he's not well, so I had to take that into account too. In the end and with the help of my betas, I tuned down his anger slightly and wanted him to appear a bit lost. The scene I used as a reference was the one from Doppelganger where he walks in the hallway after he thought he'd lost Rodney. I hope I did well, but I'm not sure. Please let me know what you think. I find him one of the most difficult characters to write so far.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's notes: **thank you so much for your feedback on Sheppard's character. They made me feel all warm insided. You really give me the confidence to keep writing this story. Kudos as usually go to my amazing betas Strut and Llanea._

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Kolya stood among the numerous seats above the now high lighted arena's playground. The previous battles had been of tremendous help to his scientists. They had finally managed to clear out the last bugs in these Ancient/Wraith systems. He was ready for the next step.

Llorena came up from behind him, speaking in a clear voice. "You were right. He's exceptionally strong. I didn't think he'd last the night and yet, despite the swamp fever, Sheppard still wakes up every now and then."

"Screaming McKay's name, no doubt?"

There was a time when a beauty such as her could lighten his nights. Now, pleasure was a rare thing. But as he recalled how they had pried John loose from his friend, how the Colonel's hands had cramped around the scientist's shirt and they had to forcefully drag them apart until Sheppard had finally let go, an exhilarated tingle worked its way up his spine.

Watching Llorena nod with satisfaction, Kolya let his lips curve in a smile.

Finally, things were looking up again.

"Prepare your men," he ordered. "It's time we finished this."

* * *

_Mist clogged his senses, his nose, his mouth, his ears. It clung to his hair, dripped off bangs past his eyelashes and down his cheeks. Or were they tears? He didn't know, couldn't distinguish, wasn't sure he even wanted to. His hand clung on something soft, fabric, Atlantis issue jacket. _

_Liquid slid down his fingers onto the grey material, soaking it from the inside out. He stared at it. _

_Red._

_His hand shook in an attempt to keep McKay's life from slipping through his fingers. John looked up into blue eyes fogging over as much as his surroundings did._

_Rodney let out a sob and Sheppard moved his fingers to clench his fist tightly around a swiftly cooling hand. "Rodney…" It's what his mind spoke over and over again. Not out loud, but he didn't need to. _

_The red liquid flowing out of the wound seemed to attack his senses. It shone bright and angry, drenching him, filling his throat and smothering him as it did McKay until Rodney stared at him with empty eyes._

_Red filled his vision. _

_He screamed, grief coursing through his veins, ballooning into overwhelming anger. He didn't care, didn't want to stop the rage filling him, unbalanced, unchecked and all consuming._

John shot upright on the cot. An anguished cry rang in his ears and he realized it was him that had done the shouting. Heaving, he desperately tried to make sense of the feeling of loss unearthed by the nightmare. He tried to calm down, tried to take control over his flailing emotions until the iron confines of his prison came into focus and the emptiness inside him exploded into anger.

"John." Teyla sat on the floor next the cot.

He couldn't look at Teyla, not now. Instead he focused on the shadow approaching his cell. "Kolya," he hissed, "Just the man I wanted to see."

* * *

Teyla jumped as John suddenly bolted upright. Normally she didn't scare so easily, but the poison in her system along with the tight feeling in her chest, were taking its toll. Sweat glistened on her friend's face as he looked around in bewilderment.

"John."

Glad to find him awake, she instantly sobered when his current predicament seemed to dawn on him. His eyes seemed to darken and she sucked in a breath. _So much anger! _Which was to be expected, but what she had not anticipated was the range of emotions disappearing quickly beneath a stone faced mask. Sitting this close, she felt the heat radiating from his body. John looked past her, apparently unable to look her in the eyes.

"Kolya," he hissed, suddenly. "Just the man I wanted to see."

Startled, Teyla looked at the bars, noticing their captor standing well out of reach. _Why didn't I hear him come in? _She thought, then blinked, finding it hard to keep her eyes open. _The antidote must be wearing off._

"Time for another round, Colonel," Kolya stated coldly.

_No. _She staggered upward. "He is not well enough!"

Both men, seemingly caught up in a glaring contest, ignored her

Teyla opened her mouth to say something more when John belied her statement by standing up and heading for the door. "You're really a coward at heart, aren't you Kolya," bitterness dripped from his voice. "If you were half the man you say you are, you would FIGHT ME YOURSELF!" He hurled forward, rattling the bars violently, and shaking the cage around them.

"What? No! John, no!" His outbursts startled her. Worry blossomed into overwhelming dread as she realized how far the swamp sickness had progressed for him to give into his anger like that. Of course, she had always known that were the Colonel ever to lose Rodney, it would be hard on him, to say the least. And the fever only made things worse. She had seen glimpses of this Sheppard before: when he fought, when he protected, when he dealt out death to those threatening his team, his city. But even then, he seemed able to control his feelings. She had never seen them in such a raw form.

"Or are you too pathetic to admit that even McKay was braver than you?" He looked every inch the killer she knew her friend could be when the situation became dire enough if it was not for the quick swallow, betraying how bad he felt. "It's easy…" he spat. "when you let your men or a wraith do the torture…. Or these worshippers that you picked up… God knows where, but how about picking on someone who can fight back!"

Kolya stepped forward, straight into John's personal space. "You want revenge?" He more or less stated, clearly unafraid.

Teyla watched the events unfold with horror. She attempted to reach out to John, to stop him, but her limbs felt so heavy. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake.

"You bet… your ass I do." Sheppard's voice dropped to a harsh tone. "And I'm either getting it now, or later. Because I will survive this, and when I do..." Was it her imagination? Or did Kolya flinch at the colonel's voice, which sounded coldly determined. "I'm coming after you. I won't rest until your dead."

Their captor stepped backward and opened the outer door to let in two of his men. They unlocked the cell and pulled John out, shoving him roughly into Kolya's face. "The feeling is mutual, Colonel."

_No! You're in no condition to do this! _"JOHN!" Teyla wanted to throw herself at the door but found she couldn't move. Cursing her weakness there was nothing she could do but watch. Her cry seemed to have penetrated her friend's mind and he briefly looked around. For a moment he showed his soul on his sleeve, a deep anguished emotion, grief running rampant, twirling behind the many colors of his eyes.

Then his face hardened and he was shoved out the door.

Teyla stumbled onto the cot, holding the despairing thought at bay that next to Rodney, she had just lost John too.

* * *

Wood connecting on wood echoed through the arena.

One by one John deflected the former Genii's vicious hits, his body instinctively moving the way Teyla had taught him. They were both armed with some sort of fighting staff, which Sheppard had to admit Kolya used with practiced ease. Circling away from the wall, he blocked, his muscles screaming in protest. Sore and aching with fever, John fought. Not only with his enemy, but a vertigo as well, and more often than not Kolya scored a hit, leaving painful bruises all over his body as the man's assaults backed him off across the arena.

_Come on, John. Focus!_ he thought, warily eying his opponent.

"You know," Kolya began. "I contemplated on fighting McKay myself, but where would the sport be in that?"

Upon that last word, the former Genii slammed the staff down hard. John blocked the vicious attack, his arms trembling from the force of the blow. Fighting the urge to curl up and fall asleep, he continued to try and get the upper hand, until another hard hit caused him to stumble backward. He managed to stay on his feet, shaking his head in an attempt to keep the floor from wavering beneath him.

"This is downright pathetic, Colonel." Kolya stared at him. "At least McKay put up a proper fight. Did you know he could see through the illusions in the end? Probably because I took him on a tour and let him touch the Ancient systems controlling this arena. I'm sure he would have loved telling you all about it."

John clenched the staff, feeling rage surging through him. Adrenaline drowned out the agony of cramped muscles, gave him the strength he so desperately needed. He ducked, rolled and came up at the man's back, landing some hits of his own. But Kolya, in top shape and obviously well trained, knocked him flat on his back. John lifted the weapon to deflect the downpour of hits. A loud crack followed and the staff broke in half.

_Oh Crap! _

Kolya backed off, dropping his weapon. "Give it up, Colonel."

_I don't think so_. He got up on his knees, unable to keep pain filled grunts from escaping his throat.

"Doctor McKay really thought he could trust you, didn't he? But I know you, Colonel. If only you could've answered that trust. Then he wouldn't have died." Kolya watched him, amused. "At least… not by your hand," he finished.

Exhausted, his body taxed beyond endurance, the words hit John hard. "You son of a bitch," he rasped between clenched teeth, trying to shut out the image of Rodney's eyes clouding with betrayal. Tiredness seemed to settle in his limbs, slowing his movements and dragging him down.

Kolya was getting to him.

* * *

Hope…

The elusive possibility that someday something good would happen to her, to her people, was the one emotion Teyla had always had in abundance. Even after a culling, her faith in the future had kept her going, had driven her all the way to Atlantis straight into the hands of friends whom she had come to care about.

As the numbing effect of the antidote wore off, her headache returned. Drenched in sweat it became harder to stay awake, to wait for her team leader's return. Even though she had no way to tell the time in this dank cell where the shadows did not move with the passing of the sun, she felt the minutes going by.

She craved for the sounds of nature: the noise of birds announcing dawn, or insects buzzing in the twilight. But here… where gradually even the distant noise of footsteps faded and an unnatural stillness took its place, the trickle of fear, the feeling that she was abandoned and left to rot in her cell, tenaciously took hold of her. There was no one here to fight, to soothe, or to talk to. She could not take action, could only worry for John's safety. It was not in her nature to dwell and it left her drained.

She shivered uncontrollably.

Teyla let her head rest against the back wall. In the quietness of the cell, her breathing sounded unnecessarily loud. She closed her eyes, believing that John would survive, because that was what he always did. With that thought she let herself drift off into sleep.

* * *

He gasped, drawing in air with desperate heaves. Tears leaked from his eyes and he shook fiercely, feeling so cold it was as if he'd been thrown into icy waters. His skin tingled and his fingers cramped when his freezing body warmed up to the yellow glow surrounding him.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut, trying to deal with the bouts of shuddering pain, attempting to fall asleep again. The light brightened and a soft WOOSH penetrated his slowly waking mind. Even though he didn't recall what happened, a feeling of intense hurt that had nothing to do with his freeze-dried skin hammered away at his heart, cringed his insides and made his breath come in panicked gasps. Flashes of Sheppard, angry and yelling, flickered across his barely gained awareness like a concert with strobe light effect. Smooth steel dripping with blood laced the images throughout.

Confused he let out a sob.

Someone gripped his shoulder, causing sensitive skin to burn beneath the touch. His whimper turned into a cough, which ended in a sob again. Fingers shook him roughly.

"Get a grip Doctor McKay."

The voice was harsh, unforgiving, and female.

"This part of the process leaves you vulnerable, but I don't have time to deal with your sniffling right now. Get up!"

_Get up? Are you kidding me? __And face you, whoever you are?_ _No, no, I don't think so._ _Let Sheppard deal with you. He's the one always getting the women, he can have you. _His eyes watered. There it was again, the memory of intense agony squeezing his heart, taking his breath away, and causing him to heave.

"He's retching! " Strong hands gripped his sore arms to jerk him mercilessly upright. "Swallow it!"

Rodney panicked, blinked and felt the whole world tilting at his sudden new position. Gravity sucked the contents of his stomach back down, causing him to wheeze and catch hiccupping breaths. His limbs flailed for anything to hold onto until his fingers caught the edges of something smooth and sturdy. He choked and breathed, lungs and chest burning with the effort. Slowly his surroundings came into focus.

"Okay, finally we're getting somewhere," the female voice spoke again.

Tasting salty tears, Rodney lifted a hand to wipe his face, unable to stop shaking. The yellow glare of what he saw was artificial lighting made him squint. A red shaped figure stood at his side.

"The pain you're experiencing is simply your body remembering the trauma of the wound." Slowly, Rodney discerned the face belonging to the red dress and stony voice. "The device also causes you to relive the emotional shock to your system. You'll feel its effects for a while to come. I suggest you calm down, Doctor McKay. The sooner you get up the better. It will expedite the healing process."

_The wound? Oh God…! _He let go of whatever he was holding and frantically touched his abdomen. "It's… gone?" Confused, he looked up, unable to keep the emotion from his voice.

The women stood close, giving him a slight smile. "You should be grateful, Doctor. We don't use the healing chamber on anyone. Kolya really must think you're important."

Rodney fought to keep his relief from showing. Feelings and emotions felt all jumbled as if someone had picked them up and put them through a wringer. He had a hard time regaining control, but that didn't keep him from trying. Gritting his teeth to stop them from clattering, he spoke through hissing breaths. "Kolya… Right. How… could I … forget … his charming… personality."

He glared at the woman, his voice hardening. "He set us up. And you? Did you… help him? Huh? Probably used your… siren song to lure John into that… that pit." He looked around, finding himself to be in a small room. Above him, strip lights glowed brightly and he was sitting in some sort of coffin like device. Instantly recognizing the contraption, his eyes grew wide. "Are you crazy? Putting me in here? He scrambled to get out of it. "Do you have ANY idea how addictive these things are?"

"The Ancient healing device is handy, yes. But not addictive. Both Acastus and I have used it numerous times. There's no lingering effects."

_No lingering effects, huh._ "No wonder you're all so screwed up!," he snapped while frantically attempting to hoist himself up enough to throw a leg over the side. _Using this thing multiple times I'm sure ripped out what was left of your already cold and blackened heart._ Waves of additional vertigo assaulted him and he flopped back down on his butt.

Rodney sucked in a steadying breath, trying to quench the cramps in his abdomen. He wasn't good with pain. It had the nasty habit of taking his anxiety to the next level. Heroically continuing on while in agony, that was John's department… or Ronon's for that matter. Let them be the heroes. No, he was quite comfortable to just sit here and relax. His legs probably couldn't hold his weight yet anyway. The woman raised an eyebrow.

"You recognize it?" The siren-song woman looked down on him, thoughtfully. "This might come in handy."

Oh yes, he'd heard about these things, back when he'd still been working at Stargate Command. Seeing as the Goa'uld had stolen most of their technology from the Ancients, Rodney thought he should have anticipated finding something like this in the Pegasus galaxy. Resembling a simple horizontal box the length of a person, the healing 'coffin' was without any of the elaborate carvings a Goa'uld sarcophagus usually carried. This device was probably one of its predecessors.

"I recognize a lot of things," he bit back. "For example the fact that you can't possibly comprehend the ramifications for using this technology." He wasn't kidding. A healing sarcophagus was known for it's extremely addictive quality. If you used it often, the thing eventually drained your soul from all things good. He did a quick inner search and felt a lingering pain, both physically and emotionally. That meant he still cared, right? For Atlantis, for his friends, for Sheppard. He hadn't gone numb from the healing process.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. He snapped his head up and around. "Where's Sheppard?" _And Teyla, Ronon? No, no, no… I haven't seen them, so they must be fine. Quit with the doom and gloom, McKay, come on!_

"He's being taken care of. Get up!"

A coldness, as icy as the woman's stare, settled in his stomach. "What? What's that supposed to mean!"

She nodded, ordering two of her minions forward, who McKay only now noticed stood close by. They latched onto his tattered shirt with strong hands and hauled him out and onto his feet.

"It means," the women hissed, stepping closer to spit into his ears, "he's already dead."

* * *

**Tbc**

**A/N:** Originally, this last scene with Rodney was the start of chapter 7. But since you all send me vibes of Rodney-deprivation, I decided to add it to chapter 6.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's notes:**__ Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and feedback! And once again a big warm hug for my two betaes. _

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Where are you taking me!" Rodney had trouble staying on his feet. The pushing and shoving didn't help matters. His voice sounded hoarse from shock, from the battering his body had taken. They lugged him through cold damp obviously underground corridors, mercilessly shoving him onwards every time he stumbled. There wasn't much technology here, only mud clogged walls and a ceiling held up by wooden support structures every couple of hundred feet. The few light bulbs sprouting from a power line that ran the wall just above his head, hardly provided enough light to see. "Where am I? How long was I out?"

"A day," Llorena, as she'd introduced herself, announced coldly.

_A day,_ he thought, trying to suppress a rising panic._ so much can happen in a day…_ _No, no, don't go there._

"We're taking you home, Doctor" she hissed, rounding on him, and forcing him to stop with a push to his chest. "Our home, and we will put you to work. You're going to build us bombs. You're going to help us win the war against the Wraith _and_ the Lanteans."

"And if I don't?" His voice sounded small, pathetic. Still, he had no intension of giving this woman anything she wanted, least of all the means to win the war against his own people.

Llorena must have read the conviction in his eyes, for she smiled tightly. "Acastus warned me about you. He said you're a weasel of a man, but once you peel away the layers, there's that hard inner core he couldn't break." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I _will_ break you, Doctor McKay."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Seriously, what is it with you bad guys always going for the clichés?" Despite his predicament, he physically started to feel better. The woman was right. Moving had gotten his metabolism going and the tingling sensation slowly dissipated. Though still shaking, he didn't feel as cold anymore.

Llorena's expression turned amused. "Because they tend to work," she spoke softly. "You're all alone, Rodney."

McKay felt a shudder run down his spine. Clenching his jaws he refused to believe Sheppard was gone until he saw evidence to the contrary. For all he knew, Llorena was lying through her teeth, she sure as hell wasn't telling him the whole truth. "When… " he squeaked. "-did we agree on first name basis all of a sudden?"

She smiled, raking a hand through his hair and down his cheek. It burned. Her sharp nail dug into his flesh and he felt a streak of blood running down his chin. "We'll get to know each other quite well you and I."

Rodney jerked his head away, but Llorena simply nodded. "Trust me, before long, you'll be building the weapons we desire." She abruptly turned and walked away.

A hard shove in his back propelled Rodney forward again. He swallowed, trying to keep his fear in check, and to stay strong. But it was hard. So hard. They pushed him inside a closet-like room, which he recognized as a transporter. He briefly closed his eyes, vaguely aware that Llorena and her goons stepped in beside him.

The door opened and Llorena stepped out, waiting for him to fall into step with her. Eying his surroundings, Rodney saw the familiar setting of the corridor leading toward the Arena's control room. _Oh no… Not again._

"You don't believe me, do you?" Llorena's tone suddenly became way too casual.

McKay kept his gaze dead ahead. "Why should I?" he squeaked, deliberately misunderstanding the question. _Sheppard's not dead. _"Where ever your home-grown bomb-making facility is? It's not here, because unless I'm mistaken, this is the way to the Arena," he snapped.

"You know very well what I mean," she stated calmly.

Staring straight ahead, Rodney kept walking and kept silent.

Llorena allowed some satisfaction to show on her face and shook her head, looking at him in pity as a mother would before having to tell her child the dreadful news. "Sheppard's finished… Rodney, and you need to learn to focus." Her voice lowered, taking on an authoritarian pitch. "On me. So to make you see reason, I'll give you the evidence you need. You're a scientist after all."

_What? No… no, no, no. _He suddenly understood why they brought him here. She'd been so subtle. He hadn't even recognized it as an attempt to break him. Dread surfaced. He couldn't help it, couldn't keep the genuine fear from showing as he shot her a look.

She smiled again.

* * *

John wasn't a fool and had no intention of dying. That plan nearly flew out the window when Kolya back-handed him into the iron grating of the arena's exit gate and the air rushed from his lungs. The door rattled loudly on impact, ringing in his ears. He sank to the ground, feeling something hot trickle down the back of his neck.

Blood.

_The dead were all around him. Mitch, Holland, Rodney. Even Ford. From far away he could hear their accusing shouts, telling him he failed. Loneliness ripped into him, and they laughed._

He gasped, shaking his head to clear his vision. His efforts to breathe sucked away his strength. As much as he tried, John knew the end of the line was in sight. His body simply refused to cooperate, fever making it harder to stay awake, to discern real from hallucination. He looked up to find Kolya squatting next to him.

Suddenly A knife gleamed in his face.

"You and I are not so different, Colonel." Kolya grabbed his hair and yanked his head ruthlessly backward. "You're a soldier, kill first, don't trust anyone."

John swallowed, looking into steel grey eyes. Part of him, guilt ridden, latched on to what Kolya was saying. Something hard grazed his fingers and he realized it was one half of the broken staff. He tightened his grip around the object.

"I think it's only fair that you experience first hand what the good Doctor went through before he died," his tormentor continued.

Rallying what strength he had left, John slammed the broken staff full force into Kolya's stomach.

The Commander doubled over with a_ hmpf _and dropped the knife. Blinking away the spots appearing in his vision, John released the staff to pick up the sharp weapon. He knew he was running on nothing but reserves now. His mind and body were set on automatic as he stood up and yanked Kolya onto his feet. Coldly, he pressed the tip of the blade against the man's throat.

"So, I was right," The commander wheezed. "You're a soldier. Made to kill. Nothing more," His voice hardened. "Finish it, just like you finished McKay."

John hesitated a fraction of a second as Kolya's cold-blooded tone connected with the horrified feeling of what he'd done to his friend.

It was all the time the commander needed.

Kolya twisted in a way John was sure a body like his couldn't handle and turned in one smooth motion with outstretched hand. It was the sort of attack he had anticipated and deflected numerous times from human and wraith alike: the strategy to make your opponent think you had him beat when all the while you had a weapon in reserve and just waited for the right moment to strike.

John had been trained to do the counter movement in his sleep, had taught it to the new recruits, even to Rodney. This time though, because of his body's sluggishness, his inability to think straight, and the raging fever catching up with him, he was too slow.

His breath caught in a silent scream, the blade dropping from his hands just as it had dropped from Kolya's fingers only moments ago. John clutched his chest where a second knife had slashed through shirt and skin and flesh. A searing pain overwhelmed him. He squinted at the commander in surprise, desperately trying to stay upright. Trembling, he felt the life drain out of him.

"You lose, Colonel," Kolya spoke calmly. "Just as McKay did, the moment he put his trust in you."

An agonizing pain stampeded through his body and was reflected in the memory of blue eyes and Rodney falling as hard as he did now.

As John hit the sand, feelings he'd tried so hard to suppress surged through crumbled walls of pain and grief and surfaced unbidden. McKay had trusted him. Had relied on him to keep him safe, to see him for who he was, to see through the illusion. And John had… he had known deep down it was his friend. He just hadn't believed it. John tried to move, to stand up, to fight, but the pull of what he knew would lead to death was too strong. _I'm… sorry… _he slurred at the image of Rodney looking down on him in disgust. It wavered into Kolya's cruel features.

John closed his eyes, letting darkness take him.

* * *

Teyla woke up from a blinding pain in her stomach. She gasped, dust and dirt clogged her airways as she lay sprawled against the wall. With one hand clenched around her sore abdomen, she carefully sat up. Shivering… trying to clench the waves of poison induced agony surging through her body, she noticed the empty cot.

John was not here.

Several hours had past she was sure.

She stared at the rickety bed. Fear rising as fast as the sandstorms on Athos, accumulating into a whirlwind of despair. _If John had won, he would have come back. He would not have left me here._

A numbness spread over her and the pain subsided. Her eyes drifted shut again. For a while she tried to hang on to the sounds around her: a rodent scuttling in a corner, the dripping of a leaky water pipe, the hissing of the torches as their fire slowly but steadily died down.

And no one came to replace them.

* * *

Rough hands hurled him through the arena's control room set up high above the stalls in between the upper gallery. Rodney collided hard with the machinery that was opposite the door, the waist-high device was responsible for creating the illusions on the battle ground. The sharp edged panel caught him low. Pain exploded into stars, paralyzing him momentarily before he managed to push himself upward against the bulk of metal plating. Swallowing a whimper he pressed his lower arm against his abdomen until the blinding agony subsided. When his vision finally cleared, he peered through the wide window above the controls. It offered a clear view of the battle field below.

He gasped.

There was a moment of silence, before he frantically started to hit the levers and buttons. This was Ancient technology, but the Wraith had bypassed most of the systems to make sure the gene wasn't required to work these panels. No one stopped him, probably because they thought all he did was bring the sensors and cameras on line.

To his left, a screen flickered into life. He zoomed in, just in time to see Kolya deliver Sheppard a vicious blow, backhanding him into the exit gate. Forgetting the pain he was in, Rodney's mind screamed at him that this couldn't be John. He latched onto the small hope that nothing in the arena had been real so far. _It's not him. It's not him. It's not him. His movements are off. Just wait for the image to change, McKay… any moment now… any moment. _He let his eyes fly over the panel and checked the settings, the levers, and the power signatures in a desperate bid to be proven right. His panic dialed up a notch when he studied the machine. Even before Llorena spoke, he already knew the truth.

"Other than the ones you just activated, the systems are turned off, _Doctor_ McKay." Her velvet voice punctuated his title, mocking his need as a scientist for physical evidence. A small part of his brain registered that this was why they'd let him access the control panel. So he could convince himself that this was Sheppard down below. Too afraid for his friend's life to want to acknowledge this as another successful attempt to break him, he kept his silence. Llorena moved in to stand closely behind him.

"What you see is what is there. No illusions. Commander Kolya wanted the fight to be… fair."

"Fair? You call that fair?" His voice rose to a high pitch as he stared shocked through the window then back at the view screen. _He's sluggish… _Worry closed his throat. _Something's wrong… Why isn't he getting up?_ John stayed on his knees, letting the Commander yank his head backward. The camera didn't lie, showing his friend's stormy hazel eyes, confirming what he already knew, that this was Sheppard fighting a losing battle far beneath him.

"Call it off! Now!" He shouted at the woman behind him. He turned, despair causing him to forget the danger he was in. "I'll do what you want. You don't need to do this! Just, call it off!" His voice took on a plea and he knew it.

Llorena studied him coldly. "You will do what I want regardless of the outcome of this battle, Rodney."

He gaped at her. Anger overrode his fear, his pain, his sense of self-preservation. "You did something to him." He accused, pointing at the screen with an outstretched arm. "Did you drug him, huh? Made sure the outcome swings in your favor?" His attention drew back to the monitor again where John suddenly seemed to have the upper hand.

"No," she answered as Rodney held his breath, unable to tear his gaze away from the screen. "I'm afraid he did this to himself. He caught a fever." She shrugged. "Doesn't seem to dampen his spirit though, or his will to fight."

But Rodney saw something different. Sheppard had that gritty look, the one he only showed when things got serious… really… really serious. He gulped as the camera relentlessly picked up every detail. Even as John held a knife to Kolya's throat, Rodney noticed the slight flinches in his friend's face, telling him Sheppard held himself together on stubbornness alone. _Come on, Sheppard! _Rodney hated killing, but in this instance he would only be too happy to see Kolya bite the dust.

"You can stop this," he tried again, his mouth dry. "I promise to help you. I'll even fix your plumbing, whatever you- " Suddenly there was a blur of motion. Kolya moved, and Sheppard tried to pull away. Rodney froze at the unfolding horror, at the hidden knife and John's faltering defensive tactic, a move Sheppard had drilled into him again and again now looking horribly slow and inadequate. Kolya's vicious slash raked his friend's chest.

Deeply.

Time seemed to stop.

John's face twisted in surprise as he clutched his ragged shirt. Shock contorted his features.

Rodney didn't know when he shifted from the screen toward the window. But suddenly he was staring through the glass, pushed over the edge into silence but for a soft whisper stealing through his mind, stilling him to the core with its sole purpose. A powerful denial, so strong it smothered his ability to talk out loud. _No…._

His friend fell, just a small figure hitting the sand far beneath him.

No one spoke; no one even seemed to breath, until time sped up again. Finding himself leaning over the control panel, Rodney looked at the crumpled unmoving heap at Kolya's feet before lowering his eyes.

"Lesson learned, Doctor McKay?" Llorena asked harshly.

"What lesson?" he hissed softly."You bastards! You just-"

"There's no choice, Doctor," Llorena interrupted him. "Not anymore. You will work for us. You will sever all ties with Atlantis, be it in your heart or in your head, or we will sever them for you."

Grief made him squeeze his eyes even more tightly shut. He understood what she was saying. There was no way out. _We don't leave our people behind. _He tried to hang on to that voice. John's voice, but when he opened his eyes and took in the devastating sight of his friend's still form, the hope that rescue would come faded as fast as John's life did down below.

He nodded, sighing with defeat. "Let me go down there…" he turned and took a step forward. Immediately Llorena's two goons blocked his way. "Look, I just want to…" his thoughts turned inward for a while. "I just want to see if he's… I mean-"

Her men swiftly moved forward to grab him by the shoulders and jerk him mercilessly around. Rodney yelped, swallowing down a reply as they forced him to look out the window again.

The goons backed off. Rodney stood trembling with fear and anger as he noticed the arena was empty but for the sole figure lying still in the dry sands. Kolya had just abandoned his friend, hadn't even made sure John was dead yet. Sheppard was dying down there, alone.

Llorena spoke aggressively in his ear. "Take a good last look at him." She hissed. "It's the last you'll ever see of him."

Rodney felt the stone in his stomach lunging upward until it got lodged in his throat. He clenched his jaws shut, trying to keep his despair at bay.

She whipped around. "Take him away!"

There was a loud click, and that's when the lights went out.

* * *

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's notes:** _Thanks so much to all you wonderful readers and reviewers. I am in awe at the positive feedback this story is getting. Once again, my betaes did a wonderful job of keeping this story on track. Thanks girls! Now, on with the story…_

* * *

**Chapter 8**

As Carson approached the balcony overlooking the gate room, he noticed Elizabeth waiting anxiously, looking as tired as he felt. She turned upon hearing his footsteps. "Do you have it?"

Glad to finally be able to deliver some good news, he spoke quickly. "Aye. We've administered the antidote just now." He wasn't surprised at her cautious sigh of relief.

"How long before we can see any results?"

"A day or so. Knowing Ronon, probably sooner. He seems to be responding well."

Elizabeth turned to stare at the Gate and he briefly flicked his eyes over the room stretching out beneath them.

"Doctor Zelenka informed me that he has shut down the distortion field," she spoke, her voice not entirely bereft of the worry he knew was plaguing her. "Get ready to board Jumper two." She turned back at him. "I need you and the antidote ready to go when Major Lorne locates our people."

He nodded, despite his optimism regarding the Colonel's stamina, he dreaded what they would find.

* * *

Rodney didn't waste any time. In the pitch black darkness he ducked beneath groping hands and raced for a small side door leading straight into the arena. They thought he headed for the main entrance, so their efforts to catch him failed completely, confirming that they hadn't noticed this exit, which looked remarkably like part of the wall. Behind him Llorena yelled a few words which he swore were alien curses. Fiddling with the controls had him discover this second way out, as well as a means of turning off the lights. He'd set both the door and the lights on a timer. The first a few seconds after the other.

On cue the door in front of him slid sideways. He raced through it and turned to run his hand down an Ancient control panel to the left of the exit. The door WHOOSHED shut again. _Hah! Let them try to open that! _Llorena didn't have the gene, and neither did her men. They would have to go all the way around to catch him. A loud bang startled him backwards as Llorena's goons were obviously throwing themselves at the door. Luckily it was of the same make as the ones in Atlantis. No way they could break through using ordinary means.

Taking a few steadying breaths, he turned to find himself standing in the upper part of the stalls. Wiping the sweat from his face, Rodney let his eyes adjust to the barely existing lighting. Although he couldn't see much, it was clear that there were rows and rows of seating all the way around him. Elation at having outwitted Llorena evaporated instantly as he took in the lit circle in the sand, illuminated by the gap in the ceiling up above. Sheppard lay silently in the midst of the arena. With fear clutching his insides, he started to make his way down toward his friend.

* * *

"_Commander!" _Irately, Kolya reached for the radio. He'd trained his men better than this. Whoever this panicked shout belonged to, he would make sure the man would never be allowed near a radio again. _"The Lanteans are inside!"_

About to enter the prison block Kolya halted in his tracks. "Impossible, the shield would have prevented them from detecting us."

"_The__ shield is down, sir!"_

Seeing his plans crumble beneath his feet, Kolya took in a sharp breath. "Where are they now!"

"_They've reached the second transporter and are heading for the arena!" _

He took a moment to contemplate the news, gouging if there was time to get to Llorena himself before heading for the escape route. _"Hold them off as long as you can. And get Llorena to meet me at corridor fifteen with McKay!"_

"_Yes Sir!"_

Whipping around, Kolya headed for a small room near the prison block, sporting another set of controls. He pressed a few buttons and a red blinking light turned on, indicating that the bombs were set. When the overhead illumination suddenly blinked out of existence, he knew he'd made the right decision.

* * *

Warm hands pressed against his shoulders, touched his face and lingered on his cheek. Coldness retreated and consciousness surfaced unbidden.

"Sheppard. Come on… don't do this to me."

That voice… but it couldn't be. Pain enflamed his senses, emanating from his chest, paralyzing his limbs.

"John, wake up, damn you!"

He tried; he really tried waking up, because he needed to know. White-hot pain consumed him and he started giving in to oblivion again.

"They have this healing chamber. It fixed me up, so it can fix you up! But I need your help. You can't expect me to haul you all the way down to … to wherever that thing is located. Do you have any idea what that would do to my back?"

He frowned. That sounded an awful lot like McKay. Grasping at the spark of hope, he cracked open an eye. The image of his friend wavered into view.

"Right, hey, there you are."

"Mc… Kay?" John looked at him in utter confusion. Fearing he was having another hallucination, he groaned and shut his eyes again.

"Oh, no, no, no, no! Come on! I didn't survive her highness and mister moronic dictatorship just to have you die on me now!"

John grunted, battling the dullness of his mind, fighting to clear his head. "You're not… real." God, he felt so cold.

"Yeah, I know. Long story short: they healed me with an Ancient version of a healing sarcophagus."

_A what? _John frowned, trying to make sense of what his friend was telling him, while Rodney kept talking.

"And if I can just get you into their Frankenstein version of an infirmary, they can-"

A Loud explosion ripped through the air, trembling the ground beneath them. The bangs were followed by another and another, the last two coming from below. The sky darkened as something pressed heavily on his chest. Fighting for air, John panicked briefly before realizing that Rodney had flung himself forward, covering him with his body.

"Mc… Kay," he whispered through clattering teeth. The warmth pressed against him left no doubt that this really was his friend. He swallowed down the emotional tidal wave that seemed to be really making a pass at him these days. "I can't breathe…"

"Sorry… I just…" Rodney pulled himself upward as the racket died down. He surveyed the damage around and above him.

John fought to keep the darkness at bay. _Teyla, she's down below. I should… _Wanting desperately to tell Rodney about her, he squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, trying to draw up enough strength to say a few things more. _This healing device, it might be able to help her too._

"Oh no."

His friend's soft exclamation sent a spike of adrenaline flooding through his veins, jolting him awake. "What?"

"From what I can see in this light, it's the control room." Rodney looked at him. "It's completely destroyed." His eyes had that 'you can't possibly comprehend how bad this is' look, and behind that there was fear. Real fear that he was about to lose something he couldn't deal with yet. "Llorena was telling me they were going home."

John knew he was screwed. "Kolya," he hissed. The commander knew Atlantis would come looking for their missing people. So now that Kolya had his fun, he took what he could with him and destroyed the rest. Which also meant-

"There were two more explosions coming from beneath us." McKay finished his thoughts. "I'll bet you anything the healing chamber's gone too."

* * *

Rodney listened for Llorena's footsteps, but all he heard was his friend's ragged breathing. The sandpit had filled with debris and smoke, trickling down from the destroyed control room up above. He focused on Sheppard again. The strike he'd seen Kolya inflict on him was a nasty one: a long red slash, separating the flesh and bleeding profusely. Rodney had still worn his jacket and had taken it off to push the fabric against the laceration. Trying not to lose what nutrition was left in his stomach, he put more pressure on John's chest "Just… hang on. I'll think of something," he murmured._ Where the hell's Carson where you need him! _

Sheppard shuddered beneath his fingers but was still conscious enough to give a chuckle, which ended in a cough.

"Stop talking," Rodney ordered, his relief at finding John alive quickly smothered by the knowledge that he might still die. "You need to conserve your energy."

"Look, Rodney." Eyelids cracked open and John looked at him through mere slits. "I'm not kidding here… I don't know how long I can-" He cut himself off as his voice lost its timbre. John swallowed a couple of times and tried again. "Teyla… Teyla's here too."

"What?" His voice shook, his mind already going at a million miles an hour. No, no, no, no, no. Of the four of them, Teyla had escaped! She had to. But being optimistic had never been his strong point and all of a sudden things made a horrible kind of sense. How else had Kolya gotten Sheppard to cooperate?

"She's down in the prison…. cells." John sweated with the effort to get the words out, making Rodney want to yell at him to keep quiet, to save his strength, but at the same time, he needed to hear. Hazel eyes pinned him to the spot. "She needs… medical attention."

Rodney felt something ugly twist inside him as he realized what Sheppard wanted him to do. "Oh and I'm supposed to just leave you here?" He didn't look his friend in the eye, kept his focus on the deep wound. _Keep up the pressure. God, why won't it stop bleeding?_

"Rodney." He felt a warmth settle on his knuckles and looked down to see Sheppard's fingers clutching his hand. Oh, this was bad. Gathering his courage, he lifted his head to find pain induced eyes seeking contact with him.

Then Sheppard's expression shifted slightly, turning hard. "That's… an order... McKay."

_What? NO! _A bout of anger met his friend's demanding tone of voice. John knew full well he couldn't refuse his order. On any other day he would have spouted his, 'not military, my friend.' But not now, not when the order might as well be John's last wish… and he knew. The son of a bitch knew that! "Not fair, Colonel," he whispered.

Sheppard managed to soften the words, his voice still retaining the commanding presence of a military leader. "I know."

Rodney stared at his friend, seeing his worry for Teyla reflected in the colonel's eyes. "Okay, fine, but you better be here when I get back." _Who was he kidding. There was no way he could carry Sheppard, let alone both him and Teyla out of here. Still, he had to try. _Cursing the stubborn Colonel and his 'I need you to save them all but it's okay for me to die' attitude, Rodney pulled his hand away, breaking their connection. Curling his fingers, he thought it strange that they felt empty already. Unconsciously he wiped them on his trousers, freezing when something cold got pressed to his temple.

"Time to go, Doctor McKay."

* * *

John hated having to send Rodney away, but there was no way in hell he would let him stay here any longer than need be. McKay needed to get out and he would take Teyla with him. Clenching his teeth, John felt the tremors shoot through him but managed to hide it pretty well. He didn't want to give Rodney any reason to stay. It was all there in his friend's expression. The dilemma, the flash of anger and the genuine hurt at his purposefully harsh demand.

Moving with nervous energy, Rodney let go, only to suddenly become very still, the shock clear on his face. John tensed, gathering his strength, noticing the gun pressed to his friend's temple just before Llorena stepped into the light.

"Time to go, Doctor McKay."

Rodney's face turned from panicked to determined.

"No."

McKay's retort didn't really surprise John, nor did the click, marking the removal of the safety. If only he could lift… just one arm. He might be quick enough, take her by surprise.

"What makes you think you have a choice?" Llorena spoke more coldly than he'd ever hear her speak before.

_Crap, she's pissed._ John tried to make his move, but was instantly incapacitated by hot poking lances flaring from his abdomen, leaving him burning up inside. His vision clouded with involuntary tears. He hissed, vaguely aware of Rodney saying something.

"What part of keep still didn't you understand!"

He felt hands grabbing his as Rodney tried to ride out the pain with him. "Honestly, Colonel-"

Cold heartedly, Llorena yelled an order. "Get up!"

John's eyesight returned just as the hands were ripped away from him,

Two goons who would have given Ronon a run for his height had stepped forward to jerk McKay upward. Rodney squeaked, but that didn't keep him from trying to break free. "You can't leave him like that!" he demanded with a fury that John knew was able to reduce his science staff to tears even before the day had full well started.

John wasn't easily rattled, but when Rodney reached the point when anger overrode his self preservation, it frightened him, because it told him how close the man was to performing one of his unanticipated heroic acts. Sheppard turned his gaze on Llorena. Her green eyes burned with a maddeningly wicked glare as she stepped up to his friend.

"So there you are," her silk voice raked John's ears but there was nothing velvet about it. "The real McKay, buried underneath all that cowardly show of yours."

Rodney fell silent and his hands started to tremble.

John cursed, fury bubbling up from deep within his soul. He'd seen this tactic being used before. First your captor would strip down all your barriers until he reached the real you underneath, who he then would rip apart at his leisure. Llorena had succeeded in getting McKay to show her how scared he was to lose his friends. She had Rodney right where she wanted him. She would use it against him, and it tore Sheppard apart.

The darkness trying to claim him drew back at the raw emotion emanating from the pit of his stomach. "You… bitch," his voice sounded hoarse with rage. John shifted, fighting desperately to get up, to do something, anything to keep Llorena from getting her hands on McKay. He was supposed to protect Rodney, Dammit! Of the two of them, John was the warrior, the soldier, the fighter. But his body wouldn't cooperate. Weariness pummeled his senses, made him doubt how much of what he experienced was real. Voices sounded more distant with every breath he took. _NO! It's not an hallucination! God dammit! This is real! _

McKay must have noticed his struggles for he shot him a glance.

Quick as a whip Llorena stepped in and grabbed McKay by the chin, forcing him to look at her. "You are right," she spat. "We can't leave him like this."

John cried out as goon number one yanked Rodney's jacket off his torn flesh. The fight drained from Rodney's face, leaving only blind panic. "No. No, you can't do that."

Llorena let him go and handed the gun, Rodney's own 9mm John noticed, to one of the goons. The other proceeded to drag McKay away, but Rodney managed to turn. John twisted his mouth, grunting out loud enough for his friend to hear that it was okay, while all the time his soul buckled under the feeling of having failed his team.

McKay of course, and he really should have known, picked up on the unspoken part of the conversation. "Sheppard! It's not your fault. You hear that! It's not..." Frantically, Rodney tried to pull free and nearly succeeded, only to have his arm yanked around his back. His cry of pain was followed by a shout of curses directed at the goon staying behind to do the dirty work. "You bastard! He's unarmed! You can't just kill…" Another cry of pain and McKay was being hauled away.

John looked up, barely able to see his executioner towering over him. He still fought, trying to keep alive, to keep breathing. How could he leave his team like this? Teyla, dying in some dungeon, and Rodney…

The goon squatted, pointing his friend's gun close to his forehead.

John closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and prayed for a miracle.

* * *

They dragged him to what looked like an ordinary piece of wall until part of it slid aside to reveal stone steps leading down into the darkness. _An escape route! Who knows where that would lead them? That deep underground, no one would be able to find him… and John… oh God, John… he couldn't just…._ Outrage mingled with fear, leaving him shaking. Rodney wanted to scream, to shout, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth.

"_There's no choice, Doctor," _Llorena's voice echoed in his head._ "Not anymore. You will work for us. You will sever all ties with Atlantis, be it in your heart or in your head, or we will sever them for you."_

The threat rang in his ear, like accompanying music to a horror scene, which he didn't want to, couldn't yet, acknowledge.

Friends only served to hasten your downfall. You trusted them and they took credit for your scientific achievements. If you let them in they would turn and slap you in the face. No, he worked alone. It was better that way. No strings to tie you down, no reason to get hurt. For years he'd truly believed that. But he had changed.

Oh yes, he'd changed. And it was all Sheppard's fault.

"Come on, McKay." He remembered John's persuasive tactics. "We're bound to stumble onto all kinds of Ancient tech and I need someone on my team to keep me from blowing us up accidentally."

Very clever: luring him in with a hook full off scientific discoveries he couldn't refuse. Figuring he would just tag along he hadn't anticipated the whole 'team dynamics' thing. How could he? He had no base of comparison. Sure, back at Stargate command, he'd witnessed the fluff going on between SG-teams, only vowing to never get trapped in a situation like that. But then a certain Major at the time with a Kirk-complex had gotten under his skin. Made him worry every time the man went on this heroic streak of his, or had him accept his protection whenever the Pegasus' natives decided a scientist would be a prize worth getting. Teyla, Ronon and all the others of the expedition, he wasn't ready to lose them, and John… He'd never anticipated a level of friendship like he had with the man could exist without it turning… physical. But it did and left him scared senseless, wanting to do something, anything to keep all this from happening.

Behind him, the wall closed up.

He stared into the darkness ahead when two loud shots shattered the air, blowing his soul into a million pieces.

* * *

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's notes: **__thank you for your kind reviews, for alerting or faving! It makes me want to write all the more! One of my betas commented that I needed to balance the Shep and McKay scenes with Teyla's and the rest of Atlantis. So, here's a bit of that. _

_I had a bit of trouble writing Carson, but Llanea helped out brilliantly. Also, thank you Strut for your wonderful input!_

* * *

**Chapter 9**

In the dark, hanging onto consciousness became an effort, but if she slept now, she wouldn't wake up. Teyla sighed, moisture clouding her vision. She'd lost them. First Rodney, then John…

Part of her was still fighting, still refusing to give up this journey and start another, but it was so hard. Peaceful quietness lay just beyond her reach. It beckoned her, enticed her with images of the forests of Athos in spring, of people laughing, of loneliness being just a bitter memory. The sounds of a crackling fire and dancing men rang through her head, the whispers of friends once culled, now healthy and young again. Their voices changing from Rodney's and John's… to Lorne's._ Lorne. Major Lorne? _She frowned.

"Doctor Beckett, over here. We found her. She's alive."

There was a short shuffle, then someone was leaning over her and a face swam into her vision. She blinked her eyes open in surprise.

Carson smiled. "Hello, love. Don't worry. We'll have yae home in nae time."

Lorne stood behind him, the light of his P-90's aimed at the main cell door. Her surge of relief crashed on one question. "John…?" she croaked, barely audible.

The Major shot her a quick look over his shoulder. "We were hoping you could tell us."

She tried to tell them, but the words would not come. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a couple of deep breaths.

"Easy there lass," Doctor Beckett's soothing voice settled her nerves, calming her enough to regain some of her strength. He injected her with something and she breathed a little easier. "Teyla," he urged, before she could continue. "I need to know if yae've been in contact with the swamp water on the surface?"

She shook her head. "No, but Colonel Sheppard has, I was given some sort of derivative." She nodded at the cup lying a few feet away from her. "It was in there." Carson's eyes stood full of concern as Lorne moved away to pick up the object. She followed his every move, still coming to grasps with the fact that they were here. "They took…" she heaved again, but whatever Doctor Beckett had injected her with, it seemed to help. "They… Commander Kolya… he took Colonel Sheppard to the Ancient battle ground."

Lorne's face stood grim but determined. "Damn, and here I was kinda hoping it wasn't Kolya, but we did recognize the uniforms on the men we 'met' on the way over here." He eyed the door. "How long ago was he taken?"

"I…" She hesitated. It had been so hard to tell time in this place. "I believe it was several hours ago."

"Teyla," Carson's soft voice drew her attention. "What about Rodney?"

Her breath hitched and in her weakened condition, she could not keep her eyes from watering and lowered her head. "Doctor McKay did not make it," she whispered softly.

* * *

"Oh bloody hell," Carson uttered, feeling like he was watching a scene from a really bad historical Roman novel, only they never spoke of the amount of grit and dirt wafting in your face as you stood in the middle of an arena. Not taking into account the open skylight, so unlike those coliseums of old this arena was indoors. The scene greeting him caused a bucket load of stones to settle deep within his stomach. A circle in the sand seemed to light up. In its center two bodies draped the floor. One, he could tell by the hair, even from this distance was Sheppard, the other was a figure dressed in clothing he didn't recognize.

Wanting to rush forward, Carson knew better than to ignore military protocol and waited for Lorne to give the okay. Evan was shouldering Teyla with one arm and had clipped his P-90 to his chest but had taken out his 9mm at the sight of the unfortunate soul about to shoot the Colonel. The sound of the Major's gun going off rattled Carson's senses. Keeping a tight aim at the now unmoving body, Evan moved forward, nodding at him to go ahead.

Carson barely noticed Lorne's men dragging the dead body away from the Colonel as he dropped to his knees beside Sheppard, "Oh Christ." He knew it wasn't exactly professional to utter his concern, but finding John in this state severely shook his already frayed nerves. The Colonel was lying still in the sand as if he'd fallen backwards, his head slumped sideways.

Cursing inwardly at the obvious knife wound to his chest, Carson knew chances were he was already too late. Carefully placing a hand on Sheppard's deathly pale cheeks, he checked the man's vitals, within seconds establishing that the Colonel was still alive. Albeit barely. "You're one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?" he whispered, giving Sheppard the antidote plus an injection to keep him from going into shock. The poison in the Colonel's body would slow down anything he could give the man at first, and the chest wound as well as the multiple cuts and lacerations didn't help any. He hoped the antidote would kick in soon and dressed the wound with the few supplies he'd brought with him. After he'd done all he could, he looked up to find Lorne's men had established a perimeter around the arena.

Teyla had lost consciousness and Evan had put her on the ground next to John. Lorne stood off to his side, warily eying the upper stalls. He had changed the 9mm for the P-90 again. Upstairs, smoke billowed from what Carson was guessing was the control room. Debris trickled down and the whole structure creaked ominously. "I don't like the look of that," Lorne spoke sharply, his voice changing to one of concern as he turned. "How's he doing, doc?"

"He's alive, but I need to get him to Atlantis as soon as possible."

Looking up at their light source, Lorne aimed the P-90 at the gap in the domed roof. "Do you think it's large enough for a jumper or two to get through?"

"Aye, it better be, if we don't get them home soon their chances of survival are slim at best." He glanced from Teyla to John. Vaguely, he heard Lorne calling in the jumpers over the radio as his thoughts trailed off._ Just the two of them, we were only able to get to two of them. _

After Zelenka had turned the shield off, Lorne had found to his frustration that the jumper sensors still couldn't penetrate this planet's soil. Luckily, the Czech had unlocked the shield room's transporter and Evan, his men, and a team of marines had been forced to take a trip through a maze of underground corridors. It was an experience Carson longed to forget. He watched as the company of marines appeared from the opposite entrance and walked toward them.

"Any sign?" Lorne asked, but from the grim expression on the marine's faces, Carson already knew the answer.

"We searched the place quite thoroughly," the burliest of the company answered. "Doctor McKay isn't here, Sir. We did find a few of the wraith worshippers that Teyla talked about. They confirmed her story." The marine shifted uneasily. Carson noticed he avoided looking at his commanding officer lying still on the ground. "Many people have died in this place… Sir. Doctor McKay was one of them."

Carson turned away from them. He had heard enough. So it was true. Rodney lay buried perhaps beneath tons of debris in a room where Kolya had kept the dead. A room they couldn't get to, because of all the damage. He closed his eyes. Not until the Colonel and Teyla were safe, would he allow his emotions to surface. But it wasn't easy, and even behind closed lids, he could see the sky darkening as the jumpers descended.

* * *

Rodney stumbled onward, forced by the goon trailing behind him to follow Llorena through a dark, narrowing passage. His head spun with trying to keep up with recent events. Normally, his mind worked fast, leaving a trail of dust behind for anyone following him in his wake, but now… Thoughts refused to connect, shattering on emptiness and pain, and on the pressing knowledge that no one would know he was alive, now that John was gone.

"Hurry up," Llorena bit over her shoulder. "The final bomb is set to go up soon!"

He should have reacted to her shocking 'and then all our lives will end if we're still here' announcement, but couldn't find his voice. His eyes adjusted to the little light that was there. It seemed to be coming from up ahead. A blue glow that he guessed signaled the markings of a transporter. The passageway ended in a small round room, with a hollowed out floor as its center. As he neared the teleport system on the opposite wall from the entrance, he noticed there was something wrong with it. The light was there, but the map on the display fizzled in and out of existence.

Llorena frowned and stepped aside. "Fix it!"

He hesitated. Sheppard wouldn't want him to give up… But if he did this now, he would disappear off the map so to speak. And either Kolya would use him against Atlantis... or he would eventually fade away from the torture he was sure they would inflict on him if he didn't comply. Both options were not ones he looked forward too.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?" Llorena said snidely.

Perhaps fixing this would occupy his mind, keep him busy enough to forget about the gunshots still resonating through his body right down into his soul. Sighing, he shook his head and reached for the panel. His fingers shook as he tried to loosen the display. By the looks of it, the wraith had tampered with the system.

Llorena fidgeted nervously behind him, ordering the remaining goon to watch the hallway while he studied the intricate innards of the transporter. His eyes widened slightly as he realized why the device had stopped working. A failsafe had kicked in, because it only went one way and only had one destination.

He didn't stop to think about it. Knew that if he would, his courage would fail him, and his future would be set in an endless circle of obedience and destruction. While at one time in his life he would have been happy to just do what he did best if only he got credited for his scientific achievements, Atlantis had changed all that. He couldn't… he wouldn't be the cause of the death of more friends. John… John was enough…

Friendship… a rare commodity in his life… In his own way he tried to protect it, the best he could.

So he saw a way out… and took it.

* * *

There was a loud bang and Carson fell hard on one knee as a violent tremor shook the arena's floor.

"Doc, inside! Now!" Evan ordered, grabbing Sheppard by the feet.

"Wait! Moving him like that can kill-" he started to protest, focusing desperately on the wounded man beneath his hands, ignoring the crumbling floor all around them.

Evan was relentless. "It's either this or get killed now! Move it, Doc!"

The sound of sand, dirt and debris rushing down into oblivion was enough to urge Carson onward. While Lorne lifted Sheppard's lower body, he grabbed the man's upper body. The floor in front of him visibly started showing a crack.

"The corridors are collapsing!" The marine carrying his bag, yelled behind him.

To Carson's horror, the man seemed to be right. This place was laced with passageways and underground tunnels. He didn't know what, but something had set off another bomb, right beneath their feet. As he held the colonel underneath his arms, Carson's hands tightened on Sheppard's chest. Kolya really didn't want them to leave this place in one piece, that bastard.

The sound of tumbling concrete became deafening as they carried Sheppard into the closest jumper. Looking out of the still open back of the ship, Carson saw the last of the marines disappear in the second jumper.

"Rodney."

"What?" Over the outside noise and the sound of the closing jumper hatch, Carson wasn't sure he'd heard the colonel speak. Perhaps it had just been an echo of his own mind. They'd draped Sheppard on one of side benches, as Teyla already occupied the other side. Her depth of unconsciousness worried him and he frantically looked around to see Lorne still carrying the backpack with the cup inside.

"Rod… ney."

A hand grabbed his sweaty palm, clenching it in a tightening grip. Shocked, Carson looked down to see Sheppard squinting at him. Slipping in and out of consciousness, barely able to take a breath, the man struggled to stay alive while Carson felt the Jumper lift off from the ground and ascend toward the light up top. He quickly ripped out an oxygen mask from one of the overhead compartments and placed it over the colonel's mouth. Thank God an oxygen machine was standard equipment in a jumper these days.

He really should have known Sheppard would try to wake up as soon as the antidote kicked in. _Losing is no option, right, Colonel? Well you go ahead, and fight. I'll make sure you win this bloody battle. _

Light splashed through the windshield, bathing them all in the splendor of sunset. Having taken the pilot's seat, Lorne turned to look over his shoulder. "Hang on, Doc. We'll have them home in no time."

"No… T… Teyla," Sheppard shifted, his skin shimmering with feverish sweat. Judging by his flitting pupils, Carson could tell that he wasn't lucid enough to figure out what was happening, which made the Colonel's reaction to the lifting off jumper all the more amazing.

"It's okay, she's here," he soothed, convinced that the colonel could hear him. Just as he'd apparently heard Lorne. "You just calm down and let us worry for a while."

"Doc," Sheppard suddenly saw Teyla lying on opposite side of him, held gently in place by one of Lorne's men. His eyes focused as he turned his head. "Did Rodney… get… her?" His voice sounded muffled through the mask.

The lump in Carson's throat thickened. He hated these moments… and he'd had a few in his career, in which the patient would wake up and he had to shove reality back into their face. "No…" he spoke softly, knowing he didn't need to say more as he held the Colonel's gaze.

Sheppard blinked, shaking his head. "But… he was…there…" He cringed in obvious pain, eyes squeezed shut again. "He was…"

The despair in the Colonel's voice touched Carson deeply. Raw emotion started to well, but he squashed it, telling himself that he had to put his friendship with these men aside, if he wanted Sheppard to come through this alive. "Colonel," his voice broke so he tried again. "Colonel, you have to keep still. I've stabilized yer wounds enough to get you to Atlantis, but yer shifting about isn't helping any." Gently he put some more pressure on the wound to keep it from bleeding through the bandages.

Sheppard gasped, ripping of the oxygen mask, not giving up that easily. "At… lantis…? No! Listen, he was… You can't…" he breathed, getting more agitated by the second, forcing Carson to hold him down.

"Teyla told us what happened, Colonel." he raised his voice, hoping to penetrate the Colonel's pain induced panicked state of mind. "And none of us are blaming you. You hear that. It was not your fault!"

"But… I saw him…" Sheppard's voice sounded small now… almost frightened. Carson briefly closed his eyes before opening them. Ronon had had the exact same symptoms: massive feverish hallucinations in between bouts of consciousness as he'd struggled to fight of the poison, which was a real beauty. It made you lose all coherent thoughts. A bit like you felt right before you fell asleep. You could struggle against it, but in the end you had to give in. The fact that the Colonel had lasted this long without the antidote was a remarkable feat in and of itself. It came to no surprise to him that of course he thought he'd seen Rodney.

Still, hope flared in his heart. Nothing was impossible in the Pegasus Galaxy and so he had to ask the question. "Are you sure, lad?"

Sheppard frowned, his eyes almost changing color as he tried to tell real from unreal, to figure out what happened and what hadn't. Carson saw the flash of panic, of dawning realization that he couldn't tell, that he wasn't sure. His face twisted with surfacing feelings that he would never voice. "No…" It wasn't an answer, it was a denial, spoken hoarsely through tumbling images, not connected enough to make sense.

Carson had read up a lot on hallucinations and it always left the patients panicked and confused. He cursed inwardly… feeling the pain as much as Sheppard did, because this wasn't just a patient… "I'm sorry…" he said softly.

Sheppard shook his head again. "No. No it was real…" he bit his lip. "It was real, God dammit… Go back…" he hissed, eyes a sharp green, burning with the intensity of trying to stay awake. "Go… back… Major!"

"Sorry, Sir," Lorne pitched in gently. "But it's too dangerous. The place was on the verge of collapsing and right now…" He hesitated, obviously finding it as hard as Carson to watch John fall apart like this. "As it stands… it's Doctor Beckett's call." Lorne's teammate occupying the co-pilot's seat started dialing the gate. The sound of the initializing symbols on the DHD made reality seem all the more inevitable.

"NO!"

The low desperate grunt was followed by a hard shove to Carson's chest. For a second Carson had forgotten how dangerous a man like Sheppard could become, especially when wounded. Earning him an uncontrolled tumble into the rear hatch. "Colonel!"

Before anyone could stop him, Sheppard had thrown himself onto the jumper's controls. Being the one with the strongest gene on Atlantis, the craft responded instantly. Ignoring the Major flying it, it surged downward as the HUD came up.

Lorne pushed John off of him moments before Carson could get to him. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?" Worry soared out of proportion as Sheppard sagged into the major, all life draining out of him. His body went limp and he slid down, their groping hands catching him just in time to lower him to the floor.

A curse drew Carson's attention back to Evan as the man struggled to get the ship back under his control. It responded sluggishly as if reluctant to comply to someone with such a feeble ATA gene.

"Major!" One of Lorne's men shouted from behind them. Carson looked up to see what the man was pointing at. The HUD showed a tiny pin prick. A blue dot… blinking in and out of existence.

The marking of a subcutaneous transmitter.

"McKay," Lorne gasped.

* * *

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Notes:**__ I had six weeks off from work and you think: "oh, I can do so much writing in those weeks!" And before you know it, the weeks have past and you haven't written at all. I blame the sudden freedom! I've also been away for a week to England to watch David Tennant in Hamlet. Amazing! And very inspiring. Anyway… finally, here's chapter 10. _

_Thank you all for reviewing and thanks to those who kept begging for this chapter! You know who you are!_

_Okay, for all you McKay fans (which includes me), this is what happened to him…_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Llorena nodded with satisfaction as McKay started to work. She kept a close eye on him, making certain he focused on fixing the transporter and nothing else. A smoldering rage burned in the pit of her stomach from the last stunt the scientist had pulled.

She noticed the doctor's hands were shaking as he worked. Watching his proceedings to make sure he did not deceive her again, Llorena moved closer to his side. "Get us to corridor fifteen, Rodney." He flinched as she put a hand on his arm and brought her mouth close to his ear. "The healing coffin has been destroyed, so you better think twice before trying anything stupid." She held a small thin blade against his chin, its tip dripping with a green substance. _That's right. _"It's pure poison, Doctor. To let you live long enough to feel the pain."

McKay turned, holding his chin uncomfortably up to prevent piercing his skin on the sharp tip. His eyes, full of life, blinked at her, the blue irises containing a depth she didn't understand. With one flick of his hand, the map on the display appeared fully into view.

Llorena smiled, keeping her attention locked onto him until he complied. "Now, activate the transporter, Rodney." She saw the hesitance in his eyes, his obstinacy burning strong as he still battled her will. _Hold it. Hold his gaze until he lowers his eyes. _

He swallowed and looked away.

She followed his every move, his silence pleasing her. But when his hand reached for the display to touch the destination to corridor fifteen, it took her a split second to realize that the map configuration was wrong, that it should mark more destinations than the red one it showed now. "Wait! What…" It took her another split second to realize she'd entirely misjudged his resigned composure.

All her life Llorena had loved giving her victims' feelings a cruel twist, just enough to steer the wild river of their emotions her way. Her favorite pass time was to make them do her bidding by using her will and weapons like poisons and chemicals as a subtle crosswind to keep them on the right track. She'd known that there were people out there who could not be manipulated. That one day she'd run into the person who would fight her until death. John Sheppard had been such a man. That's why she'd agreed with Kolya to end his life as quickly as possible. But the scientist… even though Kolya had tried to warn her, she hadn't expected such strength from him.

Somewhere nearby the final bomb went off, plunging them into a world of falling debris, shaking grounds and collapsing corridors. She knew the explosive was designed to level the arena, but it was all she could do to watch in horror as McKay's fingers hit the display.

She instantly recognized that her pride had made her see victory where there was none, saw that in her relentless thrive to submit him, she'd made the one mistake that had tipped him over the edge… A man like McKay wouldn't bow to her will unless he had a pretty good reason. And she'd just killed that reason stone dead back at the arena.

The ground disappeared beneath her feet. She screamed. Her mind still racing, desperately trying to figure out where she went wrong even as she materialized into thin air and plummeted into the deep gorge beneath her.

* * *

Rodney's feet slipped on the steep uneven rocky surface. His fingers burned with flesh raw and bloodied from gripping the hard stone edges of the cliff face. From the moment he'd activated the transporter, survival had taken a huge leap toward priority number one on the McKay scale of what to do and what not in the Pegasus galaxy, shoving the 'self sacrifice because there's bigger things at stake here' aside in blind panic.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he could almost hear John screaming at him. 'Come on, McKay. Hang on!' Perhaps he'd gone crazy. A soft whimper left his lips as he dared to lift an eyelid. What the hell had he been thinking! _That's what you get when Sheppard isn't around to keep you from making stupid decisions! _Next to his cramped fingers, a shattered display was all that remained of a destroyed transporter alcove.

Studying the map on the display back in the tunnel, he had realized that the transporter malfunctioned because its only destination was no longer there. At one time part of the cliff face must have broken away, taking the station and therefore the escape route with it. Overriding the failsafe had been easy, making the decision to leap into the unknown with a death chance of ninety nine point nine percent wasn't.

The moment Llorena had pulled out the knife to threaten him, flashes of Sheppard viciously stabbing his chest mixed with the echoing in his head of his gun's loud repulse ending John's life. That, and the bomb going off, the_ BANG_ muting his senses, had made him reach for the red dot on the display. He was always good at performing under pressure

Now he stood on a windswept stone ledge, barely half a meter wide. Beneath his feet, the dark rock of the cliff face went on and on until it disappeared into the darkness of the swamp lands below. Above him, the rocky surface kept going up to the point where it merged with the grey, rain laden sky. To his left and right, the ledge disappeared into nothing. Protruding stones at several intervals sloping downwards, told him that at one time there had been steps leading away from the alcove. But all that was gone now.

He felt blood trickling down from his neck into his shirt all the way down his collar bone.

A wave of pain radiated from his throat where Llorena's knife had raked his chin as she fell. It emanated down to his shoulders, leaving cramped muscles and overly sensitive nerve endings in it's wake. He could feel the poison spreading through his veins.

Llorena's scream still echoed in his ear, merging with Sheppard's voice and raking his already fear filled brain. He tried to shut out the vision of her materializing into thin air behind him and dropping instantly to the ground, her dressed shape form becoming ever smaller as she fell to her death. _L… Lucky me to land… land on this ledge. _He briefly wondered what happened to goon number two, but then remembered the collapsing corridor right before he'd activated the transporter.

He gripped the rough grey surface even tighter as gale force winds blasted in on him, attempting to knock him off his precarious position. Rain started to fall, at first a soft drizzle, quickly turning into a full fledged down pour. Panic shook him. Who would come for him now? No one knew he was here. Only John had known he was still alive. Atlantis… even if they were still looking… they would find Sheppard… and… and Teyla. Oh God. He hoped Kolya hadn't taken her with him. He would have gotten her out, if he could have. But Llorena… had kept him from… Llorena… had killed…

He squeezed his eyes shut again, feeling rivulets of water slide down into his blood-soaked clothing. His left foot slipped and in blind fear he shifted his grip as small rocks came loose to tumble down between falling rain. It would only be a matter of time before the poison would reach his heart. Every breath brought more pain, the foreign chemicals steadily making its deadly progress. Sharp, agonizing cramps rolled down from his neck toward his shoulder blades, spreading into his upper arms and down his chest. The vicious spasms rippled through his entire torso. He cried out, desperately trying to get his muscles to listen in an attempt to hold on as his heart started racing and his vision blackened.

When the pain subsided, he dared to look over his shoulder, all he saw was water falling ever faster. _God, this is the end, isn't it? _

But he still clung to the cliff face and to life.

Breathing deep breaths despite the pain to keep from losing consciousness, Rodney suddenly tasted the sharp tang of copper and realized he'd bit his lip until he'd tasted blood. How long had he stood here? Seconds? Minutes? He'd lost all track of time. Sound merged to a low rush as tiredness settled in. He couldn't… he couldn't hang on. He was falling asleep… knew he was dying but didn't care anymore. His eyes closed and he felt his trembling stilling as a sense of peace overcame him. John's voice faded as the world disappeared when he slowly toppled backward until a final gust of wind pulled him free from the ledge.

* * *

"I got him!" Lorne yelled, keeping steady on the horizontal lowered jumper hatch quickly becoming slippery with rain. Water pelted down, drowning him in an instance as he held tight onto the unconscious scientist.

If it hadn't been for the subcutaneous transmitter, they never would have found the grey shape clinging to the washed out black rock of a cliff face rivaling the ones from the grand canyon. The heavy clouds in this area hadn't made things any easier.

McKay hung limply in his hands, his face streaked with dirt, his shirt torn, clinging wetly to his pale skin. Quickly Lorne dragged him inside, ordered the hatch closed and the jumper to make for Atlantis A.S.A.P. In the limited space available, he lowered the scientist to the ground, hoping that the man was still alive.

Rivulets of water dripped onto the metal floor, where it pooled with blood slithering down from Rodney's clothing. Lorne couldn't tell if it was dried blood, liquefied by the rain, or if McKay was seriously wounded. Anxiously he stepped away, letting Beckett do his job.

Carson was just feeling for the carotid artery when Rodney started convulsing.

"Major! Keep him down while I prepare the antidote!"

"You don't even know if he's been poisoned!"

"Aye, I do."

"I thought you told me the stuff makes you _gently_ fall asleep!" Evan grimaced, trying to keep McKay steady, while the scientist twisted beneath his hands. Neither Teyla nor Sheppard had shown signs of a strong reaction like this.

"Only when you're subjected to the stuff small amounts at a time, or if it's been watered down like with Ronon. But if he's been subjected to a full dose of pure poison…" Beckett didn't finish his sentence as he filled the syringe with the same chemical compound Lorne knew he'd given Sheppard. "Ronon showed signs of convulsions, but not as strong as these," he quickly explained. "Basically Rodney's trying to stay alive. We've only got seconds."

Beneath Evan's hands, Rodney's shaking grew worse. Lorne gritted his teeth, McKay's death throws rattling him inside and out as he tried to keep him steady. Training helped him keep his head, he looked up. "Hurry up, Doc." His men, all but the one flying the jumper, watched quietly as Carson plunged the needle into the scientist's arm.

"Let's hope we're not too late," Beckett whispered.

* * *

This time of night, except for the night nurse on duty, Atlantis' sick bay lay quiet. Teyla had been released that morning and the infirmary now only carried one patient.

Having reacted well to the antidote, Rodney had woken up a day ago and now stood quietly at Sheppard's bedside when soft hiccupping breaths told him instantly how much trouble the Colonel had regaining consciousness. When John finally opened his eyes he looked bewildered, confused and lost.

It took Rodney back. He hadn't expected to see his friend, the stoic, hardy Colonel Sheppard this vulnerable. For a split second it was there in his face, in the way he squinted, in the lost look crossing his features. That it was all too much, that he'd lost too many friends. There was a flash of fear and John clenched his fist from more than pain alone, right before his eyes settled on him.

Rodney wasn't sure if Sheppard appreciated that he was here, so he refrained from talking and just stood there, hands buried deep in his pockets. He smiled awkwardly as emotions shot like lightning across his friend's face and waited quietly for John to make the connection.

Slowly he seemed to take in that Rodney was there.

_Still here, still alive, Colonel. As are you, obviously. _The words in his head were followed by a lengthy explanation, but he kept quiet. Lingering fears still too fresh to do much more than give a firm nod.

Hazel eyes gained more depth. "T… Teyla… Ronon," John croaked, barely heard above the sickbay's regular noises.

Rodney took a deep breath. "Judging by Beckett's ranting you would say that they got themselves poisoned on purpose," he offered by way of explanation. "Ronon's fine, already running laps around Atlantis, actually. Teyla… Teyla's on the mend."

Sheppard gave a short nod. "And… you?"

Rodney swallowed, but before he could answer, John cringed with pain, galvanizing him into tapping his radio. "Carson! Get up here! He's awake and not uh… not doing so well!" Satisfied at Beckett's sleepy response that he was on his way, he turned back to Sheppard "How are you feeling?"

John's back tensed and he pushed his head back into his pillow, his face distorted in obvious pain. "Whatever happened," he bit back between clenched teeth. "to painkillers?"

"That bad, huh?" He knew it was a lame reply and his hand shot up to the radio again. "Carson, hurry up!"

"Rod… ney." John's eyes caught his again. The tremors lessened and his breathing seemed to ease. "You're real… right?"

"What?" The question confused him. "Hello! Standing here, watching you writhe in horrible agony! Of course I'm real!" Part of him acknowledged how much sense Sheppard's need for confirmation made, but another part didn't want to face the consequences of their ordeal yet. He wasn't ready.

"Oh… Good."

Panting made him whip around to watch Beckett enter the infirmary. When he turned back, John had fallen asleep, breathing calmly this time. Relief tempered his feeling of unease. And for the first time since standing on that ledge, preparing for death, he could belief they were going to be all right.

* * *

**Tbc**

**A/N: **yes, I know I cheated you out of a Rodney-hospital scene, but rest assured… of course he's not all right. (evil grin.) Only the epilogue to go.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's notes: **__Wow, I can't believe it's here, the final pages of this story. It's been a rollercoaster of a ride and at times I really wanted to give up on ever posting in this fandom. Big warm Hugs go to Llanea and Strut, without whom 'Circle in the Sand' would never have seen the light of day. Thanks for all your help and hints and tips. You're the greatest! _

_I'm also blown away by all the reviews, all the alerting and faving. Thank you so much. _

_I hope you will enjoy the last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. _

* * *

**Epilogue**

"Rodney, what the hell are you doing!" As soon as the words left his mouth, John knew he'd gone too far. If it had been up to him, they never would have come back to this hellhole of a planet where the water was as deadly as a scorpion on earth. But they needed to check on how much of the arena was still standing. The crater beneath them didn't leave much to the imagination. The arena, along with its inhabitants were all gone. Cursing himself for being so jittery and overly concerned for his team mate's well being, he steeled himself for what was to come.

From beneath the overhang of lush flowering bushes on top of the rock slide, McKay looked at him with fire in his eyes. "Just peering over the edge, Colonel. Don't worry, I have no intention of throwing myself down there, if that's what you're afraid of. I can think of better ways to pass my time than to plummet down a steep slope." He adjusted the strap of his P-90. Lately, Rodney preferred this weapon over his 9 mm. A change that didn't sit well with John. "Been there, done that," his friend continued with venom in his voice.

_Okay, so Rodney's pissed. _As he seemed to be on every mission they were on lately. Sheppard fought to keep the coldness in his chest from growing into the hard retort he was about to form, knowing full well they had unsolved issues to deal with. "Look, McKay…" He hesitated, verging on the edge of admission. "I'm sorry."

Rodney harrumphed and walked away, leaving his commanding officer behind in total disregard of safety protocol.

If John hadn't been assured this planet was empty and Kolya was long since gone, he'd have kicked his friend over the edge himself for recklessly walking into danger like that. He stomped after him, wishing not for the first time, that Ronon and Teyla hadn't insisted on staying with the jumper. _They probably figured McKay needed some time alone. Well… tough! Team leader's provocative! _Still not up to his usual strength, he panted to keep up with the man. "What else do you want me to say!"

Rodney turned briefly. "Oh I don't know." Anger spat off his words. "How about, backing off for a change! You did this, you know!" He turned and marched on.

"Did what?"

McKay lifted his P-90 as he stomped around the crater's circumference. "This! Turned me into Rambo!"

John would have given a smirking remark if it hadn't been for the bitterness echoing in Rodney's voice.

"I'm a scientist, Colonel," his friend continued. "I was happy working in my labs. Granted, I didn't see much daylight, but with my job, that's a given! Oh and look at me now… dressed as Stallone, stomping through one desolate landscape after another with weapons that can do a lot and I mean -a lot- of damage."

John shivered, knowing full well what Rodney was talking about. "Were you?"

"Were I what?" The impatient question came.

"Happy? Come on, Rodney. Don't tell me you don't love going through that gate!" He hurried to catch up with him. "If you were so hell bent on staying in those dusty labs of yours, then _why_ did you join my team in the first place? I did give you a choice you know. And will you wait up for just a damn minute?" To his dismay, McKay responded by making a 90 degrees turn, walking down an incline straight into the crater.

Knowing the ground wasn't safe, John's heart lunged into his throat. _What the hell… _"Rodney!" He raced forward, ignoring his burning lungs and aching chest still sore from the wound inflicted by Kolya. Grabbing hold of his friend's shoulder, he yanked McKay around.

He hadn't expected the flinch or the flash of fear in Rodney's eyes. Startled, John let go, feeling the sudden scare lingering between them as the scientist pulled himself together. The answer to his question was there… in his friend's face. _Why? Because I trusted you. That's why!_

He knew Rodney hadn't forgiven him, knew how much recent events had strained their friendship, but he hadn't acknowledged, up till now, that maybe Rodney didn't trust him anymore. It was an option he didn't want to consider. Unable to keep the hurt from skimming his features, John watched his friend with concern.

Rodney took a deep breath. "Don't look at me like that, you stabbed me -literally stabbed me- in the back!"

"It was in your front," John muttered, feeling out of his depth and guilty as hell.

"I know that. But it was still a stab in the back."

"Look," John shifted uneasily on the spot. "I already said I was sorry. Can't you just… I don't know… forgive me or something?" He wasn't a psychiatrist but knew Rodney's anger stemmed from feeling betrayed as much as realizing he'd been scared as hell to lose the friendship they'd been building up until now. "We can't let Kolya beat us like this, you know."

Rodney mulled over the words in silence. "Yeah. Maybe,"

Not sure if Rodney meant he would forgive him, or he didn't want to let Kolya win, John was distracted by a trickle of stones, accumulating in a landslide of gravel. This really wasn't the right place to be having this conversation. "You might want to make up your mind. This slope won't hold forever."

"It'll hold, Colonel. I'm not stupid or suicidal if that's what you think," Rodney answered, still in thought.

John swallowed a reply, clearly hearing the –or-don't-you-trust-me-, between the lines. "Why go down here in the first place?" He asked instead.

Rodney caught his gaze, seeming to mellow a little. "I don't know. I wanted to see what was left. Make sure…" he looked away. "Well… you know."

"You do know I didn't mean to… you know."

"Yes."

Surprised by the seriousness in Rodney's voice, Sheppard released a breath. "Okay… That's good, I guess."

"Still, a tray of coffee every hour or so when I'm in the lab," Rodney continued in the same tone of voice, "might help me get over this."

John opened his mouth to protest, then, spotting the glint in McKay's eyes, he grimaced and nodded.

"And a steadily supply of energy bars might go a long way in-"

"I do also have a job to do you know!"

"Right, but I still want the coffee."

John took a deep breath, knowing he was going to regret this. Rodney would probably call on him to replenish his supply of caffeine at the most inhuman hours of the day, like four thirty in the morning. "Fine, now… Can we get out of here? Because you know damn well how much I value your scientific opinion, but I'm not sure how long this slope will hold the both of us."

Looking down at the treacherous incline, Rodney swallowed a few times. "The _both_ of us, right." Something in his voice told Sheppard he hadn't considered the weight of two adults destabilizing the unsteady ground, hadn't considered John running after him.

"Move it, McKay!"

"Okay, okay. Choosing to trust you, choosing to trust you," he bit, snapping around as the gravel started to shift beneath his feet.

Letting McKay pass him, John frowned. "Trust isn't a choice, Rodney."

"When a power hungry lunatic like Kolya sets you up against your friends? "His friend shouted over his shoulder. "Yes, it becomes a choice, Colonel! Are you coming?"

A few feet ahead of John, Rodney waited for him to catch up. _Or more likely he's waiting for me to be close enough to break his fall should he slip. _It didn't matter. He gladly stepped up to guard his friend's back.

McKay's choices were good enough for him.

**The End**

* * *

_**Final notes: **__If this hadn't been my first venue in this fandom, I probably would have explored the consequences and the trust-issue a bit more. Or maybe I would have let Kolya taken Rodney. But I didn't want too many chapters for my first story and so I contained my muse. _

_Anyway, thanks so much for reading and for making me feel welcome in the world of Atlantis fanfiction! I'm definitely going to write more! Perhaps a sequel..._


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